"The Dance . . ."
Anonymous
A slow inhale of smoke.
Bouncing glances across a dimly lit room.
A low rumble of people, songs, and dance steps.
The eyes meet.
A slow swagger forward.
Encircling like prey.
Allowing the environment to sweep them up.
The room shrinking in on them.
The smoke begins to swirl.
Magic happens.
Their world was created from the darkness of the room.
A slow dance turned wild.
Passionate.
Transformed into embraces.
Embraces become the pillars of that world.
An uneasy structure that is sure to crumble.
Embraces then Breed the life of that world.
Bent on passion and lust.
Sin and envy are players.
Unbalance the result.
And from that darkness are born scorned lovers.
Enemies woven together in plague.
Both in wrongs and rights.
Both losing and never gaining.
Both never knowing the truth or the question,
but always seeking the answer.
Answers that don't exist.
Spores of hatred that surround that sin,
and attacks of spite through arm and tongue.
Wars wage on as these poor souls are drowning in the acidic
thoughts of one another.
Burning down to the core.
Stripping away purpose and matter.
Eating away at their very existence.
Slowing bringing death nearer into view.
The shadows of which overpower and overbear,
crushing the structure of those embraces so foolishly sought.
Leaving only blame.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Tattoos from a Drawer"
By Shane Teter
Some tie tacks and knickknacks
Adorn my dresser drawer,
Along with glow sticks and
Notebooks and collected
Stones from forgotten walks:
A compendium of
Mementos, a rat's nest
Of relics, from who I was
Reminds me of who I am.
My two girls love looking through my nightstand drawer and asking me "what's this?", "why do you have that?" sorts of questions. So I tell them the stories of all that junk. Junk stories but they love them. And, honestly, I love telling them all those stories because they force me to remember the significance of my own objects and remembrances -- sort of like tattoos in junk form. Then one of 'em will ask: "can I have this?" To which I say, "No. But you can make your own junk drawer".
