1. the cold war

     



  2. I never want to use 

    acting to hurt

    I could seduce and connive and steal

    but then what in all truth would i have 

    it wouldn’t be real

    In constructing a seduction 

    the premise is to leave behind the strings

    of a broken heart 

    plucked and rosined to be destroyed in 

    ritual sacrifice on the bedframe. 

    In conniving from another man

    we lose that which constitutes 

    the integrity of ourselves

    and we’ll put honor and dignity upon the shelves

    and just take dignity from others. 

    In stealing

    we commit the greatest sin

    for when we murder we steal life

    and when we philander we steal wife

    and when we lie we steal a mind rife

    with knowledge. 

    I could do that all for personal gain,

    but in doing so

    irrevocably never be the same…

     

  3. elisabethpfeffer:

    I told you I would write a poems about you. 

     

  4. elisabethpfeffer:

    I told you I would write a poems about you. 

     


  5. ψυχη

    Here is my soul, and here she will stay.
    She clings to my ribs at the end of each day

    She’s fragile and small, she refuses to grow.
    I’d ask her to leave, but she has nowhere to go.

    She’s the rush of my blood, she’s the flush from inside.
    She has nothing to fear, and nothing to hide.

    She loves the rain, and the wind from the west
    She loved you too before you left.

    She speaks to me when I’m alone.
    If my body’s a castle, she sits on the throne.

    She taught me laughter, love, and light.
    She never sleeps, although I might.

    Sometimes I hate her, she’s never wrong.
    But I can’t stay away for long.

    I loved you once, I’ve loved him thrice,
    but it’s she who grips me like a vice.

    And though I give my heart away,
    here is my soul, and here she will stay.

     


  6. My cry echoed in a lonely world,

                                               a tiny voice,

                                                             a plea.

    bracing my knees in the icy rain,

                                 frozen by the cold,

                                                I’ll softly mutter

                                                                     help.

    It’s been a while now,

                     Each day I don’t think I’ll live to

                                                             see the next.

    But I do.

    Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t-

                   but in that light we call morning,

                                           there must have been a tad of hope on the

                                                                        horizon,

                                                                that kept me going.

    Still,

    I’d love for you to help

                                     me.

    A fallen angel on the street,

                               who’s seen the stars,

                                            and will do anything to reach them

                                                                  again.

     


  7. Snow

    The snow was falling outside the window, gently falling upon the snow that has already piled up.  I just sat in the window watching it drift to the ground.  It was perfectly untouched.

                    “What are you doing?”

                    “Nothing. I just can’t sleep.”

                    “Go lay back down.”

                    “I don’t think I need to,” I replied sharply.

                    The room went silent again and the snow had stopped, I could hear the snow plows and salt trucks coming up the roads.  The houses were slowly coming alive.  It must have been around 5 am, the businessmen had to go to work, soon the children would come out and destroy the perfect snow in the yard, even mine.

                    “Stop sitting there.”

                    “Why should I? I don’t want to be social.”

                    “You are wasting away up here.”

                    “No I am not. I have plenty of friends.”

                    “Yes, on the internet. You made me take you out of school,” my mother said.

                    “I am fine.”

                    “No, you are not. You sit in here all day long.”

                    “I have school work to do and that takes awhile. It is not like my ‘friends’ are out of school yet either.”

                    “Fine. Please clean yourself up and begin your class work,” my mother said as she closed the door.

                    I looked out the window one last time. I know my mother will leave for work shortly.  She always checks on me before she leaves.

                    “It is because she cares.”

                    “Who asked you?”

                    “I can stop if you want.”

                    “I don’t want you here right now.”

                    “Fine. Bye.”

                    I sat down at the desk and started my online classes. I graduated early because I home schooled myself. Now I am officially in college.

                    “Not really. You don’t leave the house.”

                    “Shut up.”

                    My classes were generally easy and it felt like I was still in high school but it is only freshmen year so I didn’t expect much.  My thoughts kept wandering to the snow outside.  How cold it would be on my skin.  The cold that I could actually feel.

                    “Then go outside.”

                    I shrugged off that thought and went back to my school work.

                    “You are no fun.”

                    “Stop. I don’t want you to talk.”

                    “Why not? I am your only friend.”

                    “Go away!”

                    My school work took up the rest of the morning and through the afternoon.  As the school buses pulled up I finally was done with lectures and studying.

                    “Go outside and make some friends.”

                    “No.”

                    “Play in the snow?”

                    “Why?”

                    “Why don’t you let some of these pent up emotions go? Let yourself be young.”

                    “Stop talking to me. I don’t need you.”

                    “Yes, you do.”

                    I sat in the window for awhile longer but I finally decided to go outside  I thought the cold could make me feel normal, alive, careless.

                    “You can’t be normal.”

                    “Yes, I can. You could go away.”

                    “Why would I?”

                    “I don’t need you.”

                    I lay in the snow letting the cold soak into my body. Making me feel alive.

                    “Its cold.”

                    “Go away.”

                    “You are going to freeze.”

                    “I will be fine.”

                    “Frost bite. Hospitals. Losing body parts.”

                    “Stop telling me these things.”

                    “I am trying to help you.”

                    “You are driving me insane.”

                    “That’s funny.”

                    “Who is laughing?”

                    “It’s getting colder.”

                    “No its not. Maybe if it gets cold enough you will stop talking.”

                    “That will never happen.”

                    “It could. I don’t need you anymore.”

                    “Lies. All the lies and slander.”

                    “Tell me something I want to hear.’

                    “There is nothing you want to hear.”

                    “There is nothing to say then.”

                    “Then why do you keep talking to me?”

                    “To talk. To remind you that I am still here.”

                    “I can’t forget.”

                    “I am doing my job right then.”

                    “Why do I need you again?’

                    “Someone to understand. Someone to listen. To keep you rational and functioning.”

                    “You keep me rational and functioning?”

                    “Can you hear the kids? Of course I do, no one else can.”

                    “I can hear them. I should go.”

                    “Why?  You are in your yard. Just relax and loose more toes and fingers.”

                    “Leave me alone. It isn’t that cold.”

                    “Are you sure?  We have been here for awhile. A good five hours.”

                    “Yeah, I feel numb. Out of my body.”

                    “Are you sure you are still part of that body.”

                    “What do you mean?  Nothing is wrong!”

                    “Fine. Believe what you want.”

                    “The sun is gone, I just realized.”

                    “Yes it is.  The kids are all going inside, that is what you hear.”

                    “No it couldn’t be that long.”

                    “It has been.”

                    “Stop.’

                    “I am going away.’

                    “Please don’t,” I mutter on faint breathe.

     


  8. Lacey

    “Naptime!” Lacey exclaimed as she did a jump, 180 and supermanned, (or womaned) onto my bed.

    “You have entirely too much excitement for such a proposition,” I said.

    She laid on her stomach and proceeded to pretend to fall asleep. I started to lightly massage her back with a hand as I looked through reddit. Not being used to using my left hand to control the mouse, I switched the mouse to my right hand and stopped rubbing Lacey’s back.

    “Don’t stop,” she murmured.

    I guess it was naptime after all. Resigning my right hand to its duty, I proceeded to learn how to surf the web using only my left hand. My hand set out on a quest, the quest of exploring and massaging every inch of Lacey’s back. Starting from the neutral border of skin that separated her shirt and her jeans, I pushed my hand into her back firmly and started pulling it back and forth, pushing and pulling her skin where and when it was needed.

    An hour passed and I had absent-mindedly moved onto massaging her head and stroking her hair. Unfortunately, reddit had made a poor showing and I had the need for entertainment while Lacey napped. Clearly, it was time to read some Spiderman. Since Lace was lying right in the middle of the damn bed, I laid in a somewhat awkward position along her legs and propped up my comic book on her butt.

    I could have spent the whole day, evening, and night lying there. Lying with someone and not even talking, just stroking her back, reading a book, I was at the peak of content.

     


  9. invisible

    ice breeze
    kills bronchia branches
    makes difficult
    breathing,

    wandering through
    frosted iris mirrors
    reflections see through
    to silver, resembling no
    recognition, vacancy
    crowded empty streets;

    steal your
    smile quiet shadow,
    ghost in storefront
    windows

     


  10. Ink bleeds out,
    spilling hemoglobin
    upon every page, every
    pale piece of parchment.
    Placing a plague of
    printed prose wherever
    it pleases, free to prey
    upon its peers praises.

    Ash reigns down, usurper
    that it is. Claiming the
    surface of my desk as its
    boon, a dowry born from the
    marriage between me, my lungs
    and the acceptance of smoke and
    karmic inevitability.

    Every snubbed butt adds to this
    frail facade of ferocity and
    fearlessness, though I fear its
    fading. I don’t want to die and
    I need to separate myself from
    my vices.