Morphine
R.J. LaRussa
This package was once an empty box.
Shipped across seven seas, Striped papyrus ready to receive
Thirty-one veins, bleed
Black, blue, gold, red, green, grey.
Morphine, impalpable cure for pain.
Floating by with horizon locked eyes.
Scratching out a manifesto
Of emulsed complex emotional expressionism.
Nostalgic compression.
Burning spectacles against academias scripted infection
Condensed in
Future, present, and past refection
In timecodes not written for the silver screen.
A personal documentary subtitled;
Morphine
Take
Jason Dubour
My callused hand and hold on tight.
A risk, a chance to love us right.
Away these endless thoughts of mine,
And leave only your image behind.
The words right out of my speechless mouth.
My breath away, stolen then, still stolen now.
Every gift and wish and penny I have.
Every embrace, every touch. You need only ask.
Your time. I can be patient and wait for you,
Until you feel safe and know my love speaks true.
These vows with me, our bond unbreakable.
My soul, my heart, my being. There is no equal.
Therianthrope, an excerpt
Kelia Ingraham
She could be a human, but only during the day, and only in her house. Time was frozen there. She woke, she ate, she walked the halls. They were tall and cold and every door was locked, except her own and the kitchen door. The windows showed only the woods, greenish
brown in the wind.
She never heard a word throughout all of her years there, though her room was filled with shelves and shelves of books. The books had pages thin as cobwebs, with fading ink and covers that fell off. They were only on one subject: animals. From these she’d learned what to turn into to blend into the forest: birds and rabbits and foxes and cats. She’d always been able to read the books, just as she’d always been tall enough to reach the highest shelf.
At night one door unlocked: the back door, which led to the woods. She’d searched around the entire house, but no matter what shape she took, she could not open the door knobs of either the back door or the front door once the moon rose. She was locked out just as surely as she was locked in during the day.