LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
Dear Readers,
Endless thanks to all the writers and artists that submitted work for this edition. Your passion and talent is evident, and we’re so glad it’s time to share it. In addition, thank you so much to the rest of the Rhyme & Reason staff who put together such beautiful spreads and made this magazine possible.
As always, R&R is made possible by the dedication of our amazing staff, our advisor, Mrs. Batchelor, and the English and Arts departments. Thank you all so much for all that you do.
We are thrilled to present this 22nd edition of Rhyme & Reason Creative Works Magazine. Enjoy!
Colin Welden Editor-in-Chief
THE TEAM
Colin Welden, Editor-in-Chief
Grace Roche, Associate Editor
Ollie Courts, Associate Editor
Nathanael Adegoke
Alana Barnett
Catherine Busch
Sean Hallers
Julie Luttrell
Margaret Reynolds
Cate Wassenaar
Rhyme & Reason Fall 2023 Edition XXII
a love letter to formatting ollie courts
I tell them “I like formatting!” And I do.
Indesign, It’s tricky to use, Its numerous tools and uses, I don’t know if I did it right, But I like formatting.
Please, anonymous author that 100% isn’t me, Submit more stuff, So, I can format it. I want to format everything.
“I didn’t break the fourth wall, shut up Cate.”
InDesign, Julie says,
“Is so confusing, how are you already done?”
They moan at the pain you cause them InDesign.
“It takes forever. I don’t understand!”
They loath your beauty InDesign.
But I don’t hear them,
I looooovvveeee formatting.
“Colin, did you check my spreads yet?
Please check my spreads, Colin.”
I hope they aren’t correct,
So I might be reunited with my one true love, formatting.
maybe it was ollie courts
I can’t remember what it was.
I don’t know if it was the way your eyes crinkle when you smile.
Or the face you make when someone says something funny, and you are trying not to laugh. Maybe it was the way you smell like home, Like a book that is both old and new.
Maybe it was the way you use your hands when you talk about something you love. Maybe it was the way I can talk to you without even saying anything.
Was it the way you stick your tongue out when you concentrate?
Or maybe how your forehead relaxes when you are tired.
How you could talk for hours, and I would never get tired of listening.
Maybe it was the way you say you are bad at expressing love,
But I understand those small gestures, the way you press your knee slightly closer to mine.
I cannot remember what exactly it was. But whatever it was, it made me fall for you. It made me fall for you so damn hard.
i’ll get over it anonymous
Can you see it?
A field. The sprawling meadows, Hills filled with dandelions, camellias, orchids. Even in the face of darkness, here I feel safe. Respite from the world outside. In this place, I am happy. Not sad, never sad. Everything is ok. But that is just in my head. Until I have seen it myself, I cannot believe, Such a place exists. Such a person exists.
Can they?
Hopefully. But I’ll get over it.
little glass box anonymous
I live inside a glass box I watch and breathe and think
As I see the world around me move I see the people outside the box talking and laughing and running and playing
I want so badly to experience this vibrant world around me I want to be free from this little glass box I build myself a key
Of grit and imagination and determination I stop before I let myself out
What if this is a mistake?
What if the outside doesn’t like me?
What if I’m too awkward and clunky and scared? I take a breath and twist the key
And the whole world seems to stop around me.
I pause before I step out but that pause turns to seconds and those seconds turn to minutes and those minutes turn to hours.
And why am I crying?
The hand of an angel pulls me out.
I know she has to be an angel because she’s beautiful and she’s sweet and she’s saving me.
Her hand pulls me out of the box and we sprint.
I wish I could pay attention to the new world I waited my whole life to see.
But I can only focus on her course hand in mine.
Her long braids sway against her white dress and I wish I could get another glance at her face.
I run with her and I feel free
She lets go of my hand
And the gentle noise of people around me turns to yelling. It’s too crowded and too loud and I have nowhere to run or hide.
I search for my angel’s rich brown skin and her short white dress to be met with nothing.
My feet are glued to the floor as the world around me yells and pushes at me.
The colors I’ve longed to see all my life blind me and I feel something foreign in the corner of my eye.
The pitter patter of my heart crescendos into violent banging of drums as I realize I’m frozen and I can’t move.
Suddenly I see my angel
And the lead that holds down my feet feels irrelevante as I stumble toward her.
I push past the screams in my head and the bright lights around me and reach for her to notice me.
I need to be saved I want to go back to my box I want to go back to my box
Please get me back to my box She turns around and stares I blink back She turns away
I look in disbelief as my angel abandons me
The lights and the sounds and the people are too overwhelming My tears march to the ground in a violent symphony chanting plop plop plop
The symphony and the screams and the drums in my body in my soul leave me
I run for the first time by myself.
I can’t help but look back as I take a last glimpse of my angel standing there.
I find my glass box and I shut the door tight. The world around me dims into a peaceful melody. The screaming in my head won’t stop I swallow my keys once made of my hopes and dreams and my imagination.
When I blink an image of long braids and rough hands flow gently in my memory I open my eyes and I cry.
air bubbles
margaret reynolds
There are plenty of fish in the sea, True for most but not for me
Because while they float in the ocean, untethered and free, Swirling waters and crashing waves
I am isolated
A pond
A lake
Just you and me
My water is dirty
Infested
Water still and stagnant
And nothing lives here inside me
Except for you
My dirty little duck
Ball and chain
Who quacks and quacks and quacks
Unceasing
Shouting
Biting
stirring my waters,
My water clouds as you languish
Muddying my waters with this defecation you call friendship
Your words filling my ears in one way out the other
I’m drowning
The water is too wet
A cold little pond, no creatures to stir me
I seep into the ground inch by inch and soon
Nothing will be left
But you don’t see that
Taking me at surface level
Barely kicking at my waters
I’m losing myself and you don’t see
You won’t dive down
See me for me
Because you’re happy to float
Ignoring the muddied depths
The algae covering my surface pulling me down
Do you see the air bubbles beside you
As I gasp for life?
No
Your little kicks cover the noise
most beloved ollie courts
Patroclus. Meaning father’s glory. A disinherited prince,
Who lead the armies of Greece against Troy in that final battle.
Achilles, Aristos Achaion, The Best of the Greeks,
Refused to fight unless Briseis was returned to him.
Whose fury at his lover’s death could have avoided even Fate.
The Rage of Achilles,
A love so sharp and hot that it could cut even the Fates’s strings.
Zeus, who had to intervene, Because Achilles was destined to die,
And they never expected that Troy could fall prematurely by Achilles’s hand.
Achilles who loved Patroclus with such fierce fire, That his tears threatened to drown them all.
Philtatos, Most beloved.
The words that slip off Achilles’s lips as he lays Patroclus’s body before the father of the man whose blade stole the life from his lungs.
The Best of the Greeks,
Whose last command to his people was to bury him with his beloved.
A love to rival Fate herself.
Heroes, much like love, burn too bright and fast.
And yet,
I wish someone loved me like that. Even if just for a heartbeat.
ensemble
ollie courts
I am nothing. And yet, I am everything.
I have been here since the beginning, but you don’t know my name.
You never will. That’s ok. I am the noise of life. The happiness.
The loudest thunderstorm that isn’t scary but beautiful, its bright flashes scare away the dark.
The way you feel when you meet someone who sees you, your flaws, faults, quirks, memories, and loves it. All of it. The smell of a brand-new book. The sound of a perfectly tuned guitar.
The reassurance that comes with clinging to a childhood teddy bear.
The childhood Christmas photos in which you are sobbing, yet somehow looking at it a few years later makes you happy. The unconditional love that comes from a father.
The sheer excitement from seeing a cool rock that is shaped like a heart, or a boot.
I am the small sound of a drip of water falling from a leaky faucet that you can’t remember ever being fixed.
I am the slightest tinge of red that rises in your cheeks when you look at someone you love.
The feeling of when you write too much, and your fingers have an indent from the pencil.
The moment when you laugh too hard and you snort a little bit, and it was so unexpected that you start laughing again. I am as much of a turnip as I amThe comfort of a father’s embrace.
The feeling of a rock in your shoe that you just can’t seem to get out.
I am the way you can smell rain before it starts. The never-quite silence of death. I am the sadness too.
I am the tears that fall from your face at the edge of a casket. The salty pain that comes from shouted words between two people who once upon a time loved each other.
The feeling of when you just want to scream, but you can’t find your voice.
The moment when you feel you are at your lowest and then you discover you can go so. Much.
Lower.
ollie courts
I write about a great many things. I consider myself to be a poet, even. I write almost obsessively about love, hurt and health, light and dark, truths and lies.
I write a great many things as a poet. But I can never quite capture her.
I am a poet, And she is Poetry.
I am an artist, And she is Art. poetry
I draw in the margins of notebooks. And I guess I am a bit of an artist. I draw to capture the beauty of life. Of grief and loss, desire and beauty, death and her silence. I draw a great many things as an artist. But I can never quite draw her.
I sway in rhythm to the beat of music. I guess I could be called a musician. I write and write and write, play and play and play. pluck and pause, strum and sing, melody and descant.
I sing of many people and their feats. But for her my voice is silent. I am a musician, And she is Music. I admire her, write about, draw, and hear her, and yet,
when I attempt to capture her essence, I fail.
I wish I could know Poetry.
I wish Poetry could love me the way I love her.
brown anonymous
Brown. Green and brown and grey. Gray or grey? Gay gay gay.
I don’t know how to say— Your eyes, I really like your eyes. I like you too. A lot. I didn’t at first, but…. You’re everything I’m not. You’re really cool, Make me feel like a fool, ‘Cause your eyes— I saw them today.
thank you anonymous
Thank you for saying no Thank you for checking in Thank you for picking up
Thank you for stopping by Thank you for staying
Thank you for listening
Thank you for being my friend
Thank you
to the moon and back
ollie courts
The stars whisper to me mockingly.
“Do you really love them to the moon and back?”
My reply comes in the language of constellations,
477,800 miles. 8,640 minutes.
518,400 seconds.
“Yes.”
The rocks whisper to me, curious.
“Do you love them to Mars and back?”
My answer quicker than light,
470,340,000 miles. 7 months.
306,600 minutes.
“Yes.”
The wind whispers to me, scared.
“Do you really lo-“
“Yes.”
stars anonymous
Look at the stars
Connect the dots Make constellations
Or see nonsense
Lose yourself in the art of the sky
And think of home
kallisto anonymous
Kallisto, She is one of my favorite constellations. Ursa Major
People smile when they hear that, But they don’t know the story. Filled with darkest storm clouds, A huntress whose eyes aren’t brown anymore, this time they look bright like the sky. That isn’t her!
I cry out, Kallisto cannot hear me.
By the time Zeus has finished his attack, Ursa Major is bounding into the sky. And deep in the wood, a huntress mourns her lost follower.
joy
colin welden
i know Joy her hand brushes mine in the hallway her scent lingering where she stood she tells me to follow but my feet stay planted as my mind cries out she walks away
i know Joy
she’s at the party fashionably late she’s dancing
i’m in the corner staring into a cup I haven’t drunk from i want to go out there i wish I could dance
i know Joy she’s holding his hand smiling at him like the sun
i’m holding my cup i down it all it burns he’s getting drinks
i’m walking up hold out my hand “would you like to dance?”
i know Joy her smile directed at me brighter than the sun laughing at me stupid boy
i’ll never dance with you Loneliness behind me daring me to dance
i take her hand she smiles Joy sneers
i know Joy
i’ll never have her
ants
ollie courts
Yesterday I saw an ant.
Not one of the small ones that scramble across the crumbled sidewalks.
Running along in their own little world filled with concrete jungle gyms.
Not one of the small ones that huddle under rocks and inside trees.
Not one of those.
One of the big ones, that show up at picnics and crawl over your food. Whose presence in your kitchen is like a curse you can never get rid of.
One of the big ones, that are categorized as pests along with spiders.
I lifted my foot, to stomp on it. And then I stop. I pause.
And I think.
Because while this is the gross type of ant, Are they really deserving of death?
Am I so much larger than them that I can deliver something so final? Do they not matter simply because they are small,
And I big? But what does it matter? They don’t think. Don’t feel. They are just ants.
to the monster under my bed
To the “monster” under my bed: Thank you.
I know it may confuse you as to why I am grateful to you,
But you were a source of comfort. You are the reason I don’t fear the darkness. You taught me that there are things scarier than the dark.
That the creaking under my bed is a better fate than the yelling the kitchen.
One thing I could always count on as a child, was that you would No matter where I was and how lonely I was, you would always
In a way, I felt like you always cared. You were never a monster under the bed. Your claws and teeth were all in my head.
As I grew up your growls turned into lullabies. You weren’t there to bite my hand but to hold it.
A creature is not scary if the real monsters are the ones you call
Parallel lines
Parallel lines are defined by two lines on the same plane an equal distance from each other. Two lines, a mirror of each other that match perfectly. Two lines that will never meet. No matter how far they stretch or how much space they cover, These lines are fated to continue their dance forever.
Two lines that even if they want nothing more than to curve, These lines will never touch.
yelling coming from would always be with me. always be there. call “Mom” and “Dad.”
parallel lines ollie courts
KING
nathanael
SEAN
adegoke
Tick. Tick. Tick.
7:00pm. She’s late.
The chair creaks as I sit down, my plate clattering to the counter as I scowl at the plate across from me, still steaming. A smirking reminder that once again, she hasn’t made it home on time.
If she makes it home at all, that is.
I wait for an hour, picking at my food until it’s all gone, and then I wait some more. Her food is completely cold by now, but I leave it out, wondering if tonight is the night she doesn’t come back.
She does.
At 9:30pm, I hear the key twisting in the door, and there she is, calm and beautiful and entirely unapologetic. She sets down her bag, takes off her coat, and sits down across from me.
I want to scream. This is the sixth night in a row, I think. What are you hiding? Drugs? An affair? Just tell me, so that I can forgive you.
Just leave me, so that I don’t have to.
I don’t say anything.
The silence echoes off the walls, boring into my head, broken only by the clink of her fork against the plate and the sound of her chewing.
where have you been? colin welden
When she’s done, I take the empty plate, rinsing it in the sink before slotting it into the dishwasher. She watches me silently, giving no indication of her thoughts.
I can’t take it anymore.
“Have I done something wrong?” My voice breaks on the word “wrong”. Maybe it sounds weak. Maybe I don’t care anymore.
“No,” she says tonelessly, looking away. I stare at her for a little longer, trying to solve the puzzle and coming up empty. Wordlessly, she follows me up the stairs, brushes her teeth, changes into nightclothes. She doesn’t look me in the eye.
At last, we lie down in bed, side by side, unmoving. She falls asleep almost immediately. I stay awake the whole night.
settle down, lay your head on my shoulder
ollie courts
You know I cared about you. I still do.
I believe you still care about me, in a different way. I’ll settle for that. I love you.
Maybe not in the way I wished to. I’ll settle for friends.
I’ll lay my head on your shoulder. And tell you I care.
down the rabbit hole
ollie courts
Bounding through the green grass, My soft brown paws stepping so lightly, That they barely leave marks in the earth behind me. I leap and run with my fellow rabbits, Twisting and turning.
A darkness yawns before me, blacker than night. I stare into its pitch-black maw, My nose twitching, Ears straining.
A small part of me whispers to step into the warren, But I turn my body and continue on my brighter path.
I’ve been down that rabbit hole.
I don’t want to go back down it.
and i hold open my palms
ollie courts
People await me, arms crossed, eyes expecting. What do you want from me? Each figure holds a separate answer. My help, hand, arms, ears, eyes. How can I say no?
I look and my hands, cut, bruised, and bloodied.
homesick
ollie courts
You say Home is a place. But I disagree. I know Home is a person. Whose arms muffle the noise of life. Whose fingertips brush against hurts and dull the pain. Whose words are like the creaks of floorboards. Scrape. I love you. Creak
But I feel sick.
nodding assent
ollie courts
I am laughing with the people I love“Are you still talking?” She says. A simple question from a friend. A joke, a friendly jest. See, I could respond, but I don’t. I sit back down in my seat.
letters you will never read colin welden
I am sitting alone tonight, thinking of letters you will never read
Of music you will never hear
Of hills you will never stand on, where you will never scream at the sky
Where you will never understand that the sky doesn’t care
Its vast, uncaring emptiness
Has no stake in mortal affairs
It was the Earth that cared
Too much
About what you read and what you wore and how you did your hair
How you spoke and how you walked and how you were when you were born
It was the Earth that took from you
That took your laugh, your smile, your stories
That took you
And left
Empty chair at the table
Empty bedroom, door locked
Empty passenger seat in my car
And so, so much silence.
Some politicians on the TV debate about you the idea of you
And I think I will scream
How dare they go up and talk about
How dare they assume they know
How dare they use
My sister
I am sitting alone tonight, thinking of the woman you will never become
Of bloodred wax, dripped carefully onto a pristine envelope
Pressed, sealed into oblivion
And added to the pile
a golden light nathanael adegoke
warmth nathanael adegoke
fracture colin welden
Painstakingly I laid the foundation
Meticulously I placed the bricks
Agonizingly I sealed the walls
Snugly I secured the roof
Fearfully I closed the door and threw away the key
My fortress stands against the wind
Battered but unbent by the torrential rain
Strained but not shattered by the raging storm Hurricanes and heartbreaks pass me by and I am safe
Safe from the wind and rain and storms and hurricanes and heartbreak
Safe from fire and avalanches and war and pain
Safe from the outside but not the inside
Not safe from the inside
Not safe from the pressure that builds builds builds
Tears the paint from the walls
Smashes the furniture to pieces
Shatters the windows open and all the outside comes in and I f r a c t u r e
The force that turns coal to diamonds Has reduced me to nothing but dust
to dust nathanael
adegoke
i’m angry anonymous
I’m angry.
Angry at how I still love you
Angry at how you seem to still love me
Angry at how you act like the feelings aren’t there
Angry at how whenever I speak it becomes insignificant
Angry at how I used to laugh at your stupid jokes
Angry at how I lost my innocence to you
Angry at myself because I can’t let go
Angry because you’re trying to I’m angry.
your love colin welden
Your love is a rock
Dragging me down
Pinning my wrists
Stealing my crown
Drinking my blood
Draining me dry
Taking me out
Leave me to die
Your love is a rope
Pulling apart
Breaking me down
Breaking my heart
You’re pulling too hard
Burns on my wrists
You tug once again I cease to exist
You heartless husk
Your love is a lie
In beautiful wrapping
Deceiving my eye
Your love is a heart
But ready to burst
I’m taking the dog
I wish you the worst
living is hard enough cate wassenaar
Are they coming?
It sounds close
I can’t let them find me
God, please don’t let them find me
The door bangs open I cover my head with my hands
This is it
I whisper a prayer
This is the end
The stall door bangs open
I hear nothing, the blood rushes my head “Look up child” I raise my head slowly shaking
“You are safe now” am I, am I really?
Not when something like this could happen again
Anywhere, any day, any time Don’t lie to me
Living is hard enough now
But they are right, I am safe
I’m not looking down the barrel of a gun
But I am looking at a grave
Living is hard enough as it is.
feeling
anyonmous
Driving down the freeway
Early morning lights slowly peaking
Rattling over every turn, every dip in the road
My mind wanders
I’m tired
Last night I was asked a question When I said no, it was angry It told my friend , who laughed I’m angry
It speaks to other people Chaos and drama in an already uneasy mind I called him
He, who has always understood He who loves me even if he doesn’t say it anymore
He does I understand it now
moonstone
inquiring
back2back
love in the distance nathanael adegoke mē amātis, servāte mē. anonymous
If you love me, save me. I cry as I slip beneath the waves, My voice unaudiable above the crashing; If you love me, save me. I cry one last time as the tide overtakes me, I try to scream but I am no more; If you love me, save me.
But you do not know that I am lost, Gone for forever; If you love me, save me. For to you I haven’t left my seat, My battle has been in my head this whole time;
When you love me, I’ll save me. My wars mental My scars invisible If I love me, I’ll save me.
white hot nathanael adegoke
regalia nathanael adegoke
iridium nathanael adegoke
eternal return nathanael adegoke
blame! master edition nathanael adegoke
i see from afar nathanael adegoke
still waters
margaret reynolds
I drew on my desk in math class, But I used pen, And when my teacher came over, I covered the sketch with my homework, so she did not suspect me of anything, Ever the model student,
And when she was gone, I removed the paper and it was gone, Disappearing like it never had been, it made me think
How many others had done the same before me
Written, scribbled, scratched,
Marking their names and profanities on the desk, Atop, the sides, below, Anywhere to be remembered, How many nameless names hoped I would see them, Their scrawlings, Their hopes, their dreams, Complaints, jokes, And they will be preserved, Those remarks,
On these desks,
At least until the school replaces them,
But how many others used pen?
How many others drew in pen, hoping it would stay, Pencil-less dreamers wanting to be remembered, To stay stagnant, in ways many can relate, Forever remembered, Forever loved, Forever *
At least until the school replaces them * Then to the junkyard they go
Forgotten
Just like the ink that spills from my pen Forgotten Impermanent
Which is ironic, when you think about it, That the pencil lasts longer than the pen
But what is life without ironies, Jokes, Laughter
pantaloons
margaret reynolds
You’re like old jeans, Denim faded, Scratched and worn, A stain on my left pant leg from I don’t know what, A different person bought those pants, A different me. And I’ve outgrown you, But my nostalgia has me holding on, Holding you up high, Safely away from the goodwill box. I love my jeans, I can’t bear to throw them out. They fit me once, they’ll fit again, But I’m two sizes larger than I was five years ago, We don’t fit each other anymore, And stretchy material can only go so far. I’ve kept my jeans in the bottom of my chest of drawers,
A hopeful maybe for a day that will never come, Because I’ll never fit into my jeans the way I used to. I’ve grown too much.
The candles flicker oh-so-softly in the quiet dusk.
The fork makes tiny scraping noises against the plate filled with the dinner for two I prepared.
Across from me, your plate sits quietly, untouched.
“Your food will get cold.” I say out of habit.
Against my will, liquid makes its way down my face, dripping onto the plate before me.
I take a bite, forcing it down, and cringe at the salty taste. Was it always this salty? I don’t remember adding salt.
Somewhere past the glass, an owl hoots.
You always loved owls.
You said they were watching over you, their wise eyes were filled with love. Tap. Tap. Tap.
My foot bounces softly against the carpeted floor.
“How was your day?” I always worried that you would think I didn’t care. You don’t respond.
Ha-ha, you always were quiet.
I drone on about menial things, sharing even the most obscure details. I pause, looking up at your plate, once steaming, now sitting, solitary, still, stoic.
A crow pecks against the glass, it makes me jump.
“Oh, you scared me!”
The crow doesn’t respond, but it cocks its head to the side.
In a flutter of feathers and dirt, it speeds into the night. When did it get so dark?
My eye twitches, and my hand rises to meet it, and I feel the water that coats my face.
I sigh, letting the air whoosh out of my lungs like a great wind.
Raising my head, I begin to clear my dishes, and work my way to your side of the table.
Salt drips onto your seat. Your chair is cold.
Your food is perfectly intact.
Your water glass has made a ring of water on the table. Your place is empty.
just a moment anonymous
a letter to molly
Thirty minutes ago - I held you as the doctor said she’s gone. You still felt warm under my hands
An hour ago – I knew you were going to die and I could do nothing but hold you and cry
Two hours ago – I woke up to a call that you were going to be put down
Fourteen hours ago – I got a text “we’re leaning towards not making a decision tomorrow…waiting a little longer” and I said “i like that” Twenty hours ago – a vet told us you had a 1 in 3 chance of living, I was robbed of our last hours
A day ago – I thought you had time
Two days ago – mom said we might put you down Three days ago – I thought you had years Four days ago – you went to the vet, their words were concerning, but I never heard them Five days ago – was just another Monday, I put you in your kennel and took you out like normal
Six days ago – you hadn’t eaten in 3 days (you would only ever eat once more)
A week ago – your breathing was heavy, it worried me, I didn’t think our time was numbered
Two weeks ago – I never thought of your death, you were still my puppy, my ten year old puppy
A month ago – you still played just as hard, even if you got more tired when it was over …
Ten years and three months ago – you broke your little puppy leg, you had this big purple cast you dragged behind you, I found your kennel wrapped in gift paper on Christmas morning, you had torn through it with your teeth, I tried to name you Molly Sweetie Pie Cutie Pie Princess, you bit a my feet when I ran, I loved you for the first time Ten years, five months, two weeks, and one day ago – the best thing to ever happened to me was born and I had no idea
… (6 months and 29 days later we will get another dog, she will be the same breed as you, her coloring will be different, her personality will be the furthest thing from yours, but still I see you in her, we will name her Georgia, but sometimes I call her by your name)
Dear Eurydice, How are you? I’m doing well. I still sing for you. Not as loud as I used to, but I’ll get my voice back. For the record, I would still go into the depths of the Underworld for you. That will never change. Just because you aren’t my lover, Doesn’t mean I don’t care. I do. Doesn’t mean we will drift apart. We won’t.
-Orpheus
a letter to eurydice anonymous
riptide
anonymous
won’t you hold my hand?
anonymous
I am scared. I am scared I will hurt you; I will damage slightest touch of wind. I am scared I will lose you and you one who ever cared about me. I am scared that I am being much you take and take from my scarred hands that I will and you deaf. I am scared that as I unwind the string to lead am scared that you don’t like me anymore. I am scared that and alien to you. I am scared that I will see your eyes, your indifference there. I am scared to heal, that if I erase the markings Iam scared that this won’t last forever. I am scared that you you always wished to, it will be my fault as you spiral to the am scared because I don’t know what to do about it. I am so
damage that carefully woven string that dips andways with the you and you and everyone else who I ever cared about, everyselfish, that so matter how much I give and give and how be the one to drag you down. I am scared that I’ll go blind, lead you through the maze I will trip and break that thread. I that no one does, that I am unlikeable and weird and strange your beautiful brown eyes, the ones I always have loved, and see markings from countless stories I have yet to tell, I will forget. you are Icarus and I the sun and as you fly beside me in bliss, as the depths. I am scared and I don’t know what to do about it. I so scared; won’t you hold my hand?
from atop a branch anonymous
I wish I were a fish
Swimming in the summer sea
Trying out all kinds of things
Like hanging out in coral reefs
With a school of some like me
With vibrant colors surrounded by blue
Oh how much it would be cool
To swim and relax would be such a blast
I
open my wings and I fly
atelophobia anonymous
Atelophobia.
The fear of being inadequate, of not being enough.
The feeling of trying to be that unobtainable person. And never being able to reach it. You must be this tall to deserve this. And being too short every time. At the start of the race, and I can’t start running.
As if your feet have been solidly planted in the ground,
And I am not strong enough.
Showing up to take a test and knowing none of the answers.
Standing alone on a stage, illuminated by that fated circle of light.
And I stand alone. Because I am simply... Inadequate.
At the beginning of the universe
There was nothing. Just space and atoms. Atoms, That make up you and me.
At the beginning of the universe, There was something.
Space and atoms and you and me. Do you think we knew each other then?
Back-
At the beginning of the universe
Where you and I were?
I think we did. I think we always will. I hope so.
of the universe ollie courts
At the beginning of the universe
It was the same as it is now. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Just re-used, again, and again. And again.
At the beginning of the universe
You and I were there.
Maybe our atoms are friends? Maybe they keep coming back to each other. Maybe you and I keep coming back to each other.
At the beginning of the universe I think, even then.
When there was nothing but space and atoms.
And you and me. I think even then I loved you.
shadows reach across the walls, rainbows dance behind them ollie courts
Tick.
Laying in the dark, shadows reach across the walls, Their sharp talons glinting, gleaming against the soft white paint. Laying on my bed, I shut my eyes, and try to sleep. Tock.
Get up, walk to the bathroom.
I splash water on my face, staring at myself in the mirror. My face looks especially weathered in the creeping darkness. Tick.
Walk back to bed.
Pull the covers over my shoulders.
Ignore that creak, this house is old. Tock.
The shadows seem to be no longer confined, To my walls. They flood my mind too, now. Tick.
Dread digs its claws into my mind.
Terror waits, stalking me from the dark.
Loathing coils in my blankets, waiting to make its move. Tock.
Sleep drags my eyes downward, pulling black across my vision. I blink once, twice.
The scraping of claws on floorboards lulls me to dreams. Tick.
Drifting along, my consciousness lives a million lifetimes beneath my eyelids.
I wander through a thousand fields of daisies, Ride into countless sunsets. Ding!
Laying in the light, sunlight streams through my windows, Rainbows dance across my walls, glittering against the soft white paint. Laying on my bed, I open my eyes, and try to wake up. Chirp.
Get up, walk to the bathroom.
I splash water on my face, staring at myself in the mirror.
