yourotherleft

The sound of pages turning between past, present, and future tense were the only indication that any life existed within the gray-washed walls of the Aberfoyle Public Library. Of course there were the silverfish, legions of which moved from shelf to shelf devouring the binding that held together the volumes that made up the stacks. Anthony never had the heart to kill them, although he knew they could destroy the library, word by word. Besides, their antennae still twitched after he slapped them with a rolled-up newspaper, and then he couldn't read the newspaper anymore and the twitching made his stomach turn. If a rare visitor to the library

When I was younger, this was the best feeling I could imagine. I'd spend months deciding just what to pack for each and every day and making sure the flashlight had batteries and drawing maps to the campground where I could spend a whole week under the shade of trees with their own stories to tell. I'd count down the days until departure and help load the car, selecting a book for the three-hour journey and music if it was my turn to pick. It was the embodiment of excitement. I don't remember when I lost that feeling, but I remember last summer because it burned more than ever. I watch their car driving up the dirt road to cabin 6a, right ne

streetlights pour secrets over you and me, radiant beneath trapped halogens. the artificial lights cry artificial tears and we glow… flicker… fade.

i left salt in your bed. you left fingerprints on my mirror. (call it even.)

Every time I get on this train, I pick up something new. Tonight for the first time I noticed how when the train pulls into an underground station and you look out the window you can see people standing there, but they're never lit up. So you  see these shapes, and sometimes you'll think it's someone you know for a second but it never is, because then the doors of the train open and they all file in and they're strangers who were just shadows a second ago. I've been one of those shadows. I wonder if anyone ever noticed me.     Sometimes I pretend to look out the window. All you can see is the reflection of the rest of the train car, and I g

this is not how sleep should feel: I lie in my indifferent bed, surrounded by the whisper of white cotton sheets, perfect though twisted around each other and around me. They keep me secret and hide me from the light as it grows close, creeping through spaces. I remembered to close the door tonight, but still those pale yellow beams lie awkwardly across my floor. The light from the hall shines relentlessly through the whisper of twilight as it bleeds every secret from leaking, twisted veins. And these twisted thoughts of mine race and close in on themselves. You say there's a secret behind every letter of every lie you ever

We leave through the back door. Taking your hand, I step into the alley, where it is cold and the streetlights are off. But nothing seems to matter. Taking your hand, I step into the alley. You are next to me, but nothing seems to matter as night seeps into my veins. You are next to me, saying "everything is all right." As night seeps into my veins, I want to see you all lit up. Saying "everything is all right," we leave through the back door. I want to see you all lit up where it is cold and the streetlights are off.

Every shallow breath explodes as we spin faster than the stars. Honey-scented and warm, the air collides with frosty diamond lips. As we spin faster than the stars, the pearly galaxies of our skin shiver with frosty diamond lips pressed softly against shimmering satin. The pearly galaxies of our skin shiver as you whisper into my shoulder, pressed softly against shimmering satin with sighs soaked in every fluttering heartbeat. As you whisper into my shoulder, Honey-scented and warm, the air collides With sighs soaked in every fluttering heartbeat. Every shallow breath explodes.

Every other night I find my way out of my room and onto your doorstep. Each smooth sidewalk footfall leads me closer and I have learned to recognize your house by the dim glow of streetlamps. Your silhouette is perched coldly on the roof and I let myself in the back door. You don't move as you hear me crawl clumsily out your bedroom window and struggle to move my legs in front of me. You are on your back, watching clouds file past the moon as branches of an oak tree drift wearily across your vision. I wonder if you are thinking anything as I curl up next to your shoulders and fall into your pattern of breathing. Your lungs fill and empty the

 This morning as I pulled out of my driveway I made a wrong turn. All right, that's mostly a lie. It wasn't so much this morning as 3:15 am, and not so much a wrong turn as I just decided to leave. I turned off the lights and I locked the door and I left. I can't stand that feeling halfway down the road of not remembering whether or not I turned off the lights. That, and not taking the key out of the door. I used to do that a lot when I was a kid, but not so much anymore since I started driving. Then I get out to the car and realize I don't have the keys, and then I'm pretty much lucky if I left them in the door and not inside. I have one

- addressing her past, today. already, the flowing water reminded her of storm scattered skies and bouts of sadness; while her head hung motionless above a white sink basin and leaking faucet. -

Our kisses were always more beautiful than the ones pinned on your wall. But they could never be therre to watch you sleep So you dont know which one is real: Static permanence Arms painted around eachother Forever there in gold leaf or A dissapearing and reappearing act of passion Complete with mystery and mirrors: It's emcee, calender dates and flight numbers step right up. step right up Until you can't tell you're alone or claustraphobic when you look in the mirror. Until soon, with every kiss and every inch of bare skin you'll wonder, havent you had this dream before?

I crave to breathe searing fire, that it might rip my lungs. I want to live             for more                   than stars. I want to bleed quick                                 silver I-want-to-throw-out-all-my-passioninonemurderousoutburst, hurling shrapnel through car doors with a deafening screech. Devastating city blocks with awe. I want to squeeze out              every last tear of gasoline. I want to breath sparks,              I'll never wear eye brows!    (I defiantly cry) All this,      so  that others      might say:                      I lived.

Our meeting Where the moon eats the night, And our worlds collide, under twilight sky. How Euphoria fakes it, My mirrors crash, and karma blesses. Why the stars wink at me, And  the roses cease to fade. When never sings forever, And glass births the sands…