Young Writers Society

stormy mountains

i've never seen lightning strike before
{lies have never tasted so good}
i can't help picturing a flash of light
like a brand across my skin

i'm feeling the push and pull
of thunder sounding in the forest
i want to run and hide
but you're more alluring than
the safety a bathroom provides

i don't need to see you to feel you
warmth comes in waves
heat signatures off the roof
of my old house, in shambles now
you blew everything in my life away
{but you never gave apologies}

i saw your letter one night
burned into the field
if i didn't know better i'd have called
and left a message for the UFOs
good thing you're predictable

rings in the water

we gave into the whispers in the water -
______________________how long will it be
_____________before they lose faith in you?

and we were prone as Narcissus to watch the rings
break out from our noses, our lips, our eyes where the teardrops fell.
(are our knees really in the mud? have we been here for, what,
hours? years?) and we spoke together, fumbled over the clay noise
of one another's weeping:

saying i don't want you to go.
i don't know where this leads me.
praying i don't know who i'll be
when i wake up, though it may be true
for each heart in each bed at 5 a.m.
and the sun won't rise just yet.

to tell the truth, your footsteps on the water
were just the beginning of a story of mourning.

Clash of Desires

constellations

indigo sky
scattered with glowing embers
millions of miles away
but still shining light upon my starry eyes
here on my little patch of earth

i search the sky
trying to find some constellations
but they're hiding in the rest of the stars
little treasures that not everyone can find
even when I hold their hands to show them
the stories in the sky

i'm constantly relating to constellations
in the way they're there
but not everyone can find them
in the mass of stars the night sky cradles

i'm lost in the stars
one in a million
not many may see me
but i'll just keep shining
for the ones who do

I’ve never seen a memory as a tangible creation
the desert does things that drugs cannot
you’ll see moving pictures in the hot
you'll boil in frustration
and you can’t not
the desert feeds off of our fixations

I used to think we were paper people but now
I think we’re dehydration and heat waves
we’re all memory slaves
our words an empty vow
thought the thing our body craves
the only torture it will allow

I saw you in the indigo hours
a fleeting silhouette against the land
I tried to take you by my hand
you wilted drooping like a flower
your image sinking slowly into the sand
the taste left behind was gritty and sour

I’ve never seen a memory as a tangible creation
but I’ve seen your shadow across the moon
across the sun-kissed sand-dunes
you are my brain mutation
I cannot escape from you
the desert is a subtle damnation