Chill

I think about those moments,
that winter flooded the earth
and painted the land white.

A blank canvas to start a story,
of the birds, buildings, and bravery.

Why don't you glimpse those flakes,
and tell me what first strucks your eyes.
Is it that day of baking in the santa claus pajamas?
The morning you tumbled in the frozen ocean of your backyard as the dog lands on your chest?
Or the night you sat cross-legged staring at that holy chritmas tree, not a word needed to be said?

Think about the chill that climbs your spine
and how you only wonder when you'll see that winterland again next year.

Remember winter is a symbol of death, but after death comes birth.

And that's how the cycle moves

Dear School

Dear School,
      Do you realize you waste a good fifteen years of people's lives? That you are the cause of teen depression, agressive behavior, and multiple broken hearts?
      You take the life out of living. Making us get out of bed before the sun does; so that we walk around your halls living living zombies.
       Thank god we are zombies or we would be smothered to deth with essays, vocab, and math sheets, the thrawing stars of our teacher's wicked arsenal.
        But does it honestly please you to watch us stumble and yawn through four years of your sleep deprived institution.
        YOU ARE A MENTAL INSTITUTION.

By Meghan, Noelle, Ali, and Kristen.

#2 Signs of Why

Two of my housemates were facing Adam, the town's head mechanic. Lily had her head dipped down, her blond long hair curtains around her childish face. Adam, a man in his late twenties, was roaring words into her bowed head, a scene similar to a mouse cowering from a monstrous cat.
Reese stepped from beside Lily to in front of her, blocking Adam from his victim. He yelled back, Adam shouted. his arm flew back and before I could gasp in surprise, his fist landed against in the smack middle of Reese's face.
By the time I scrambled from my car, Adam was slamming shut the door of his and sped off, causing mud to rain on Quin's motorcycle. Lily was balancing Reese as he struggled to stand, but he kept buckling back down to the wet grass.
"What the hell was that?!" I demand as I grab Reese's other arm.
"Oh, I broke up with Adam and he wasn't happy about it," replied Lily as she shook her hair back after hauling Reese up again. We stumble inside our home, a small blue house with dark windows and a wodden porch. The little hallway enterance opens up into the living room, the kitchen, and the family room.
We plop Reese onto the couch, ordering him to clog his bleeding mouth with a tissue, in fear he will spill blood on the green fabric.
"So What did Reese say to get a whack in the jaw?" I question further.
"That Adam will never amount to anything cause he quit high school and never went anywhere, or something like that," she rambles as she disappears into the kitchen and reappears with a wet towel.
"Do you have to date guys that have professional boxing skills?" whines Reese.
"No, you idiot!" she snaps and slaps his shoulder.
"You could say thank you," mumbled Reese.
"For what? I told you to stay out of it! He was only yelling for god's sake."
"So I wasted a perfect set of lips for nothing? The sweeling won't go dow for weeks!"
Both Lily and I glance at each other, rolling our eyes. Reese constantly thinks he is a gift from the heavens, just becuase he has a pretty face. Personally, I don't think he is that hot. blond shabby hair and a stubby chin with dark eyes.  Not really a go getter in my mind.
"What?" he asks, catching Lily and my exchange, "You don't think I have beautiful lips?"
"I would answer that," I say, "But after you said I look like a redheadfrom the 70s I refuse to agree with you."
"But its true."
"You don't even realize my hair is copper colored, not ginger!"
"You seem a little touchy," comments Lily with her arms crossed around her middle.
"Yeah, what is your problem?"
"Uh..." I want to tell them about my mom coming up and the fact she knows nothing about my life here, but they somehow already quess it.
"If its not about your mom than it must be about your job, right?" asks Lily. When I don't answer, her eyes pop wider. "Oh great, your mom wants us to come up again? We were just there a few months ago, Bree!"
"No, no she doesn't want us to go there--"
"NO! DO NOT TELL ME SHE IS COMING HERE!" shouts Lily, as if 2012 is happening.
"What's the problem?" pokes in Reese, "She doesn't sound that bad."
Of course, neither Reese or Quin have actually met my mother. I have lied and said Lily and I live alone here. So when my mom walks through that door in the next few days, the boys better not be cooking breakfst in their boxers and bathrooms again.
I pray for that, defiantly.

A Hollow House

Ghosts of memories
haunting me.
Inside this barren land,
with smudged windows and worn doors.
These empty rooms...
once full of youth and life.
Now gone before my eyes,
Just to vanish in the dust.


Goodbye loving thoughts,
that I once held a millennia ago.
No more hugs and love,
or silent happy nights.


Can't you feel the walls falling?
Can't you hear the last laugh...
or the final dripping tears?


Maybe we'll meet again...
I'll shake Death's hand,
and like before,
sing in your walls.

Signs of Why #1

Bree's brain was boiling. Her fingers' blood circulation was being cut off by the tight grip she had on her steering wheel. And worst of all, rubbing into her brain, was the fact that she had to tell everyone when she arrived home.
Everything was fine until an hour ago. Things were going normal in her and everyone's lives until that phone call ruined her week. Ruined her life is a better phase, actually.
After zooming down the wooden area road, the house finally came up on her left. It wasn't her house exactly. She has been sharing it three other people for nearly two years. Once college flew by, Bree and her closest friends bought a two-story blue house up in New York state. The location was necessary for multiple reasons, such as being an hour away from the city and still having the countryside effect.
But at the moment all Bree could replay in her mind the phone conversation she had at work.
"Mom?"
"Hi, Baby, how are you?"
"Um...fine. Why are you calling me so early in the day?"
"I just wanted to surprise you, but I know how much you hate that. So before my flight tomorrow I wanted to give you a heads up that I'm coming over for Thanksgiving! Doesn't that sound like fun?"
"Oh, yes it does." (No, I did not!)
"You know, I haven't officially seen your place. I can't wait to meet your friends!"
"Oh, I'm sure you can't."
"I'll see in two days. OK? Bye, Baby Bree!"
"Bye," I pipe, even though the phone line was already dead.
Nothing could be worse for Bree at that second. Nothing compared to the fact that her mother was going to show up and collide Baby Bree's life with Out-of-House Bree.
That is, until Bree saw them in the front yard.

A Lonely Scarecrow

Everday,
he waits impatiently.
Not for danger, but for a friend.

He waits there,
a frozen sneer across his forever emotionless face
wanting to feel, to smile, to wak along the road he unblinkingly stares at.

Everyday,
he is trapped on that cold cruel pole
forced to experince the long winters without shelter-
during the summer, he excepts that scorging heat from cloudless days.

Battered coat, dry thin fingers slumped to the soil.
Torn hat from the brutal seasons.

He is old, but can never age.
He will never know what grandchildren are,
but will always watch that road for new faces to appear.

He waits, not for something to scare away,
but for someone to love.