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by Jess Mize


Making Paper


The forest of my life is so quiet.
Birds do not sing their tune.
Not a single breeze blows.
I walk alone.
Silence is the only sound.

I have been reborn into these broken woods.
Aimlessly I wander,
looking for companionship.

Not even the trees speak to me.
I have only this
loathing of myself.

Even that hatred is silent.



a line, (a short blue one)



The butterfly that emerges from its chrysalis
has no idea it was ever a caterpillar. 

There is new life. 
New purpose. 
A new self. 

I too, wish I could make a womb and be transformed
into something
without any recollection of a former life.



a line, (a short blue one)




New Year’s is the saddest day,
bringing resolutions that will never
come to pass.

Winter’s cold, ah,
too much to handle.

Brief moments of
respite occasioned by
glasses of champagne
and the midnight kisses

Quickly dissipate
into pressing

Smiles soon become bitter
green tea.



a line, (a short blue one)




Selling off all my best of things, I am gonna buy a beautiful way to show off my eyes and to make sure everything ends tonight. I used to be a little cruel and nothing has changed, but now I have no one to accept how I act. One day I am going to feel the earth, then it’ll be just magical. I have so many phantasies in my head like what if we all were truly in love. I just don’t know what to do with myself. The pain that I feel is soothing. These four walls protect my existence. The door is open to astral awareness so I shut off my senses. To have pleasant constructive musings is for others. What about when you have done the impossible, and yet you still have no wings? Tell them you are sorry for all the pain you have caused. Give them some of that sincerity.





a line, (a blue one)


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