Remember to Look Both Ways Madison Maha
Lately, I’ve passed out on the couch but have had bloodline memories of walking to my bed. My eyes aren’t half visible here, unlike the bed. I’m always alert, always ready but “why” seems to be the recurring question. Slipping on white cancels out the noise of opposing colored bottles and the muffled silence of nothing helps 33 muscles relax momentarily. I never denied they were telling the truth. But I never denied that I was telling the truth. I’m greeted as a black suit occasion and the creatures have Venice bought faces. I’m underdressed but I don’t have any second thought about it. Part the way for the path of which to take is popular for them so I’ll follow the guidance. I mean, they know, they are in control. Death misunderstood has the calmest eyes because it’s patient and will wait longer since I still cannot take its hand to dance. My vessel hasn’t sunken yet. Delicate wrists will rise and guide me a short distance, yet I seem far away. Turn me around, gentle push, it doesn’t take much and I’ll glide occasionally bumping into stars till they turn me upright gently and have me land on a mirror. It ripples a spreading secret. I know this, but don’t have any emotion about it. Looking down at perfect bare feet that couldn’t possibly be mine, they’re bleeding and cut, they’re mindless yet not insane? They must know of the staircase’s trickery yet they obey. I wonder if they have control too. It’s almost mesmerizing. Left, right, left, right, and with no cadence count. Wait, no, I can’t be marching with
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The Echo
“TEEN FICTION” THE STRONGLY WORDED LETTER AND NOVEL, or the alternative more relatable title,
“DIVERGENT” Mell Finefrock Dear authors who write “teen fiction,” What in the world were you thinking? Let me ask you , have you ever met a teenager? Have you ever spoken to a teenager? What makes you think That while the ground is falling out from underneath me An army is behind me And lava is flowing up from the cracks in the ground That I would be more wrapped up in my love interest Than the fact that my sneakers were melting And my feet were more than just a little uncomfortably warm But oh god Mr. or Ms. Dreamy had such beautiful eyes They were just like Blah, blah, blah insert a body of water SLASH the sky here Will you stop that? Not everyone’s eyes are blue And I swear if I have to hear another description Of brown eyes as chocolate I’m going to lose my marbles. Sincerely, an angry reader
Volume IV Issue 2
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