an empty mind is nothing but a corpse

   buying memories out of an old cardboard box left in the corner of a flea market stall and playing them on film reels behind tired eyes

   old bodies dripping with liquids that drip and spill, machinery creaking and failing and the lights blinking red, red, red, error, error, error

   a brain bluescreening and shutting down down dow

   plastic limbs left on the concrete, found and collected into a pile, driven to the factory and melted down down down, reshaped into husks

an empty mind is waiting to be filled

and we’re not corpses but we still rot

   bone-white flowers waving on too-thin stalks blossoming from eye sockets, leaves falling into tepid pools and rippling in the ever-present rain

   washed-out faces and cold hands left in darkened lakes, moss and lily pads grasped in weak fingers, skeletal figures reaching towards the distant shore

   echoes of voices crying out to the stars please please plea

   lichen and mold etching spirals and spiderwebs into blue-tinged skin up across blank eyes and out through gently floating strands of hair 

and we’re not corpses but we’re still dead

and the rot is all we have

   cracks in the walls of abandoned buildings and shattered windows, glass littering the floors, shining in splintered fragments

   carpets of dust coating the houses, swept up into tornadoes by roaring winds, tearing withered planks from walls and floors, faded picture frames left on the mantle

   a dry and scorching breeze whispering come back come back come ba

   mud and puddles forming mush with dirty snow as the clouds grow dark and heavy, they drift away and the sun is nothing but a burned out spot in the empty sky 

and the ash is all that’s left

(zysia- [n.] the sense that you were born too early in history, all too aware of how crude and backward the present can be)

I sit at a table The bartender behind Pouring me glasses The other messed up people here to

He is kind Nice I guess

I start to see double Whats happening Drunk I think Wow

Another shot I need more I want more “I am not throwing away my shot”

Right I mean who would Throw away the cure to pain To sadness The cure of life

It can leave you sick sometimes But it is worth it The sensation of numbness Unaware Of life People What’s real what’s not

“And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past”

• F. Scott Fitzgerald

---

He felt nothing.

Caleb felt nothing.

He didn’t feel anything when the guy scrambled off his and his girlfriend’s bed, a blanket wrapped around his torso .

He didn’t feel anything when he saw his girlfriend immediately put on a shirt as well, then underwear and pants. As she scrambled to his side.

He didn’t feel anything, as she started crying, begging for forgiveness.

He only sighed, and went into the joined bathroom.

He stood there for a while, staring at the floor tiles, before then deciding to take a shower.

He heard his girlfriend’s cries outside the door, her banging on the door for him to open it.

Once he finished, he wrapped a towel around his torso and walked out. She immediately stood up from the bed and went to his side.

He didn’t really hear anything she was saying. His head felt oddly silent. He calmly put his clothes on.

Her brown eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks were flushed. She looked so sad.

“Caleb, I’m so sorry,” he heard her sob.

He sat down on the bed, she didn’t sit down.

“I’m so so sorry, please forgive me.”

Her voice was annoying, it was loud and broken.

“Say something, scream at me. Please.”

She was sobbing. He didn’t feel anything. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one crying? Because his girlfriend cheated on him. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one screaming?

“I suppose one of us will have to leave,” his voice was low at first, but clear. “This is a shared apartment so both our names are in the lease. I don’t mind leaving, you can have the apartment.”

Then she kissed him. Her lips tasted salty, they tasted of regret.

He didn’t kiss her back, it was only her lips moving.

Eventually she stopped, when he didn’t respond.

“Caleb, I’m so, so sorry. Please. It won’t happen again, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

He gave her a small smile.

But he stood up, and started packing all of his clothes into a suitcase.

She stared crying more, unpacking all the clothes he packed. He didn’t grow angry or impatient with her.

Eventually she gave up as he just added more stuff in.

“Don’t leave,” she said to him.

Caleb had grabbed most of his belongings and essentials like toothbrush and chargers, his favorite pillow, his favorite book, his favorite cologne.

He left the rest to her. And he walked to the door.

She didn’t have any more tears left in her.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

They both stood at the door, she clung to his arm.

He leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered.

And he left. He closed the door behind him.

Curiously, salty tears ran down his cheek as the door closed.

And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past

“I promise you, we are going to get out of here.” A whole crowd of children surrounds me. They’ve been here for their whole lives . . . . The Ranks have been holding them here, lying to them about what is outside these walls. Saying the world is nothing. Nothing but a lethal wasteland. The truth is that there is a utopia waiting for them to come home. The truth is that the Ranks want to train them to destroy the cities that have been build up from nothing but ashes.

“Why?” a child pulls at my cloths and looks up at me; eyes wide and confused.

“I’ll explain later, but for now we need to get out of here.”

“We like it here. Why do we have to leave?” Another child wastes more crucial time.

“Your being held captive here. By bad people. Now, please come with me, quickly.”

I run down the halls of the Ranks base being followed by the group of children; all sprinting, but still at my jogging pace.

We stop at one of the only windows in the entire structure.

The only problem is that it’s 20 floors above the ground.

“Okay, listen closely everyone,” I speak over the sound of the kids’ heavy breathing, “When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.”

I grab the rope out of my bag and tie it to the fire-lit lamp; connected to the wall. Then, I toss the other end of the rope out of the window.

“Okay!” I turn around and give the kids a smile, “Whose first?”

An awkward silence lingers in the air.

“Okay . . .”

“I’ll go,” a small girl steps forward with her hand raised.

“Great,” I motion for the window, “go ahead!”

“Uh . . .” She takes a moment to think of how she’ll approach the task in front of her.

“Wait,” I climb out the window and hold onto the rope, “why don’t I go down first so I can catch you once you let go.”

She nods and I slip down to the rocky shore below, not caring about the burn I’ll have on my palms. Grey has to be ready to pick us up by now. We have to hurry before the guards realize their all missing.

I land on the ground hard; enough to send a shock up my legs and back. I can’t let that stop me.

I look back up to the window to see a handful of children sticking there head out of the building to look down at me.

“Come on,” I whisper (not that they could hear) and motion for them to start climbing down.

The little girl who volunteered first slides down and hangs at the bottom of the rope as I instructed.

“Good, now drop down!”

The five foot fall into my arms doesn’t faze her so she lets go. I have a feeling it won’t be so easy for some of the others.

Kid after kid slide down the rope, some giggling, some crying.

As I catch another boy in my arms and place him down on the rock next to me I survey the amount of people I’ve helped down.

“Do you know if there are any more kids up there?” I ask the question praying I get the answer I’m hoping for.

“There’s only one boy left. He won’t go down,” the older child of the group responds and I mutter.

“Of course . . . .”

I start to pull myself up the rope, flexing the muscles I’ve trained just for this moment. I’m almost to the small window once more when I hear a loud creak from inside the Rank’s base.

“Oh, no.”

The end of the rope, and the lamp I attached it to come falling back down and I start to plummet back to the rocks below.

My hands claw and grab at the side of the building but there is nothing to latch onto the slippery walls with.

Only one stone sticks out from the rest, and I manage to grab it, only for a second, before falling ten more feet back down towards the mortified children.

I slam into the ground on my side and hear the chilling noice of my own bones cracking under my weight.

Screams escape from the kids’ mouths and I franticly try too get them to stop.

“SHHH!” I get up and hold my mangled arm to my side.

Just as the kids start to shut up, Grey sails around the corner of the gagged cliff side that supports the Ranks’ main structure. His giant boat can only sail so far into the cove.

“Hold onto each other,” I command the frightened group and they take each other’s hands with no hesitance. They’ve been cooped up together for so long, I guess they have grown trust between each other.

“Now grab my leg,” I jump into the frigid water and my breath hitches.

I have to keep going. I’ve come so far.

One child jumps into the water and the rest follow. We snake through to cold while I paddle as hard as I can with my good arm.

When we reach the edge of Grey’s ship, he throws the wooden ladder over the side of the dock.

The Rank’s horns start blaring into the night; a sign that our time has officially ran out.

I shove all the kids up the ladder and climb up last.

The second my body hits the ship’s deck, I am overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment and resplendence. The white sails above me catch the wind and pull us far away from the children’s old prison.

But we missed one. The one boy who was left behind is now all alone.

The sense of accomplishment drips off of me as the freezing water does the same.

“Dammit.”

I’ll go back. I’ll find him.

The goal I’ve now created implants itself into my brain.

“Your arm,” Grey pushes through the group of children, “it looks bad.”

“I’m fine.”

I sit up and look at his sharp features. Then I look past him at the future of our world; the children that we just saved.

“We just saved humanity. Why wouldn’t I be?”

I contain multitudes Folds I lose myself in People I become People I don’t want to be And people who already exist.

I think therefore I am I overthink therefore I am too much I am this and that I am anger and kindness I am winter and spring and summer and fall And I do not want to be I do not want to be.

Finally I walk into the experimentation room with a facade of confidence. I then approach the subject. Dana Marcello: Age: 18. height:5,3. weight: 130. Parents: deceased. Mental conditions: Unspecified. I look at the last one with a spark of hope and a little anticipation. Perfect.

“Hello Dana, my name is Dr. Chesh and I’ll be speaking with you today.”

“Oh, speaking,” she says sarcastically,” Is that what they call it nowadays,” she asks the wall behind her with a serious but snarky face.

I smile. “Ms. Marcello your mad; absolutely bonkers, but I’ll tell you a secret, all the best people are.”

Her wish is a desire She wants but doesn’t need She dreams about love Her love is a dreamer Her reality is not meant to be

                       Written By:
                       Ghostrider

One glance is all it takes, One glance takes my breath away, One smile to make a heart flutter, One smile to make my eyelashes batter,

All it takes is one glance, one smile, one word, All it takes is one breath, one moment, one memory to fall in love,

“Anybody can fall in love and be blindly happy,” Not everyone can take the moment to fall in love with nature, Not everyone can take the time to fall in love with the way the water reflects the sun’s painting, Taking time to appreciate the way the notes dance off the pages, The way the sun shines through the trees, The way the hummingbird Sings and the bees buzz,

That moment where it’s just you and space, That moment when the rain is falling, and the world is still standing, That moment when the world is revolving, and you are still standing When you are breathing in the cool air at five A.M, When your heart beats at the climax of that one song,

Falling in love can be wonderful, Falling in love can be memorable, Life is extraordinary.

They told me to get out of bed Do something with your life They said You can’t just hide

But my imagination runs free And my bed is so comfy It would only be crushed by reality Which isn’t anything like my dreams

And everything outside seems so extreme I did not want to go and be active But it does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live

“Tyger tyger burning bright / In the forests of the night.”

The first line of Blake’s poem ran through my head over and over like a needle skipping on vinyl. I’d always appreciated the comparison of the predator to the power of fire tearing through anything in its path. And now, watching the trees burn around me, I couldn’t help but picture a tiger pouncing from branch to branch, its tail flicking upwards in the flames.

Blake wondered who could create such a ferocious creature as a tiger. As I watched the forest writhe, engulfed in flames, I wondered who could create such a creature as man, a being that could set a fire and think only of poetry as he watched the world around him burn.