i run you through my fingers,
waiting for my response.
your surface smooth as water,
your blade sharp as ice.
your blue tint reflecting my sadness,
your cracks revealing my anger.
still waiting for my answer,
i place you down admiring your beauty.
little shard of glass,
nothing else can cut so smoothly.
i think about it,
can i be that strong
as to not rip you through my skin,
and watch the validation seep out?
watch your red army attack my clothes,
staining the white the deepest crimson?
i think i'm done deciding,
what will i do- only time will tell.

The relief of sheet and blanket, nestled between hands and heart.

Floods my being with irrational safety and solace.

I never want to leave.

Survivors
by Michael R. Burch

(for the victims and survivors of 9/11 and their families)

In truth, we do not feel the horror
of the survivors,
but what passes for horror:

a shiver of “empathy.”

We too are “survivors,”
if to survive is to snap back
from the sight of death

like a turtle retracting its neck.

Published by The HyperTexts, Gostinaya (Russia), Ulita (Russia), Promosaik(Germany), The Night Genre Project and Muddy Chevy; also turned into a YouTube video by Lillian Y. Wong. Keywords: survivors, victims, families, 911, 9/11, terrorist, attack, terrorism, empathy, sympathy, truth, horror, death, survive, survival

Shower in my blood

I feel your heat

my simmer

We are far

far from love


But I’m falling

at landing

will there be a pillow?


Crocodiles ****

but you can torture

you have more power

over me than you realize


Power struggle


You always win

because I ******* let you


But I don’t want to let you, anymore

because I’m a ******* shark


I’ll bite your ***** off

and leave your timber.

the room is upside down and with it im going down too
like being high but instead of happiness depression comes like a dementor
im scratchin my face but I cant scream only crawl in my skin that feels like its not mine
I want to end my life
with a knife
to get rid of this horror that my life has become

loneliness eats me up and i cant go out because they are looking, they are everywhere,
but noone is my friend, only ghost faces and stares who think they know what they see
while im the ghastliest ghost of all whose flesh is just a carrier now
my face is just a ****** up drawing of a 5 year old
i dont want anyone to see because they cant even guess
why the wrinkles are there, it’s the screaming
why the fear is shaking, the agony

i want to smash and shout but im still afraid of being heard while not being heard at all
i don’t know how to tell you either because this monster is now me
it doesn’t talk to me anymore like schizophrenia
it is my whole reality now and there is no distinguishing
threw my phone in the corner and broke its screen
a friendly reminder of the absent of what occupied me

powercut in reality becomes the powercut in my brain
cuts out the tales that occupy my brain
music is weird shouting
fhe fan is whirling with me in this unreal reality
i don’t want to make sense anymore because no one does

with every death i feel less
my cheeks burn from my clawing
shaken by feverish fear
i wanna throw up
it is in my gut
its my cancer
the tumor of the nonsense
pain is my muse but i would rather be “normal”
where are the traffic signs
i don’t have a gps…

a lioness above
clouds chilling
in freezing iceblue fog
quite willing

to attack and to shock
earth to **** and disturb
to swallow and gobble
each life fully and fast

Scared of the silence that presses
Clinging to you like my too tight fitting jeans
Suffocation isn't a possibility
It's a reality
Left gasping and grasping for air that will never come back
Trying to speak the truth
But the language has abandoned me
I'm not writing
I am thinking
Trying to think away the silence
I am drowning