Anjali25

when hansel comes to with the witch dead at his feet, he hangs gretel off him like a blood bag, drags her toes through the dirt, and he thinks she has to be broken in a ballet, she has to be broken in a pirouette. her toes continue to click in her shoes years later, a crunch that he is reminded of years later again when the moon hung like it does at midnight, as yellow as a sick child, facing the forest. hansel is rubbing his blue jeans like he does sometimes, the heels of his palms dragging the surface like nails on wood. it feels like fire and coal, a numbing that feels necessary until hansel says, “stop.” and when he sees her

You were lost at sea and I was your lighthouse, but when we kissed you couldn't get the taste of salt water out of your mouth.

i fell into the washing machine today and i found a world where all the lost things go. i saw gatherings of lint and social events for dimes, nickels, and quarters. there were eleven shiny-now-dull buttons discarded like adverbs. i could smell the stagnant water of one thousand and three spin cycles. i didn't mind; it wasn't so bad until it got a little nostalgic. i started to remember spring mud, summer grass stains, autumn fading, winter salt-bleached jeans, and all the times i almost lost something. you think you love the smell of detergent until you find out where it goes. so i surfaced with three lonely socks, my

With my eyes closed, under the rain As thunder rumbles overhead. I feel alive; I feel insane. The lightning is close, yet I remain Standing there, both arms outspread With my eyes closed, under the rain This storm sent from God's domain Fills me with energy, from Him I am fed. I feel alive; I feel insane. This feeling of power is hard to explain Why bother to try? I stay instead With my eyes closed, under the rain This feeling of power, it flows through my veins It takes over every thought in my head. I feel alive; I feel insane. This feeling of power I cannot contain. It overflows as I stand frozen with dread With my eyes cl

January School starts again after being away a month from break. How was your New Year’s? Fine. Nothing Special. I watched some fireworks with my friends. did you get a New Year’s kiss from your significant other? No. I don’t have one. Really? Why not? Midnight. Twelve chimes. Happy New Year’s. Two of my closest friends are celebrating with me, like every year. We throw poppers and chase each other with silly string like children. We watch fireworks from the street and burn our fingers trying to keep the sparklers lit. Our conversations meander in any direction as we drink carbonated grape juice. We only stop talking

she sells 9mm shells by the seashore, says she can hear the ocean. but if you listen close to these shells you can hear ghosts. something borrowed, something blue, something broken, something bruised. she traces her fingers across the autopsy scars while she counts her bones like currency. she'll leave your skin screaming, and sink into the whites of your eyes like a shipwreck. can you hear the ocean?

have parents that separate when you’re in high school; a father filled with unused anger and a mother too busy to care. pretend it doesn’t hurt. let your friends treat you      like dirt;      after all, everything is your fault. listen to their problems with a fake smile all the while crying out because everything hurts and no one can see. press a knife to your skin, but be too cowardly to draw your own blood. fall in love with people who could never notice you, because you’re                just. not. good.                enough. chew on the multicolored strands of your hair.      (you can’t stop runni

i've had my fix of hot, black cancer. when has the river ever stopped for love? send me to sleep away, away.