I gaze

This is Eternity.

In front of me.

Won't call it an addiction?

This is surreal

And yet tangible.

Is it a passion?

Or plain madness?

This is a bustling city

In front of me.

Illuminated.

Is Heaven golden?

I stare at everyone

And there I see myself!

Hovering cupcakes follow me

Strangest?

I look at my wings,

They flutter in eagerness.

It's like all the dimensions, high and far off 

Can now be touched.

It's pleasantly warm,

And yet it snows.

Lights float on the lake

And stars still pose a mystery.

I look into the vastness

Ready to explore

Everything that had mystified me

But then Beauty grips me tight.

I sit here and gaze

I'm addicted

It's painful, it slays

A trick of imagination?

I gaze for hours

I'm addicted

To this bad longing

Of being there.

I gaze, uninterrupted

I'm addicted

To the Magic

It might, might possess

I gaze. Lost.

This is Rowling's Erised

I've painted on my wall

I often, often forget to live. I'm addicted.

More paint here

Won't call it an addiction unless

You paint your own image

I  n    E  r  i  s  e  d. 

The doom lights on and I'm too drunk to drive

But 20 minutes ago we were breaking the lock to a bathroom stall

And you were bucking like a wild

Stallion

Fighting anyone that touched you

That wasnt me

Which made me smile and made me scared

It's my fucking car you say and proceed to spit in the floorboard.

But the innocence of your face

Tempers my emotions

And I watch

In awe of your face

Even drunk it bares the perfection

Of a roman precision.

You're eyes have always been too

Much to turn away

The sadness,  the tragic happiness

Thats always fleeting

I adjust the seat from 5'2

To the comfort of 5'6" and

I light a smoke

you're spitting and maybe its

The liqour, maybe its the Guiness

But I'm smiling as you

Continue your drunken dialogue

With yourself

But then you turn to me

In confusion and eyes clouded

With intoxication and shame

And Fear

Your voice is clear

It's strong.if only for a moment

As you sputter the words

I don't know. I don't of I'm a lesbian

I don't what. But...

There's a pause.

It's deafening and I brace myself

For the fall

We've been fucking for weeks and

It's you and me and shadows

Thoughts rushing.

I need a drink. The pause in your

Words stalled

Hours and minutes and seconds

Gone to the race of my pulse

But... you say I love you. I think I'm in love with you.

And I smile as you drunkenly spit in my direction

I'm nodding and awkward happy nod

And threatening you and your inevitable spitting tirade

But I make the 45 minute drive...

Happy. Happier than I have ever been

And so very very scared.

But you pass out on my shoulder

And I'm ignoring the phone call to your husband

inevitable that I'll leave you there

With him

On the single happiest night of

My life.

wear that rusted halo 

it pins you with

thorns still green

stigma.

first sin

that pricks

your porcelain 

as thin as the

varnish

on a winter 

moth's

raptor

dare you lift

the ring

risk the

perforations 

to blood

the puncture not

corpuscle wide

will not prevent

rotting

from the

inside.

Around you

these clouds have meat

suspended in blood red skies

sunset spooled

to rolling boil

of fermented firmament cooled

catches the back of my throat

with suspended heat

of sorrow

where these words

of unspoken passion

settle waiting on the marrow of morrow

settle thick and sticky sweet

and taste somehow of home

these clouds have meat

condensed

soaked heavy with memory

with diluted blood

crying distilled

in which they sail the sky

dreaming of full lips to call their own

and a wistful tear

raindrop clear

on a cheek bone

high

Rick Dove (c) 2016

2013

The nausea subsides with the high

Too far gone to bring you home.

You cut your eyes towards

My blank stare

And you walk out the door

Your jaw set. Your eyes course

The voice of someone I don't know

Resonates through the closing door.

I'm numb to your rejection and

Humbled by your touch

Trapped somewhere between love

And self hate

And I know you're with him and I know

That you're scared

But I'm so confused about how I ended

Up here.

The back burner girl.

To a half assed punk and I'm bottomed out

I'm not myself. The fog so thick

I cannot find my way home

Paths are filled with briars

And tar and suddenly I'm

The rabbit that's stuck.

Why can't you leave me alone

And let me make my decisions

I don't need your heart.

Just need something

Someone to say its ok

I'm not sure

I'll not thinking clear

And you punch the door

Throw the dog inside

Leave me standing

Bare and tear drenched

I don't cry. Bitch you do now

I am nothing and I am no one

Everything special about me

Leaves with you.

And so I take the handful of

Antidepressants and prayer

To any God that cares

That I sleep

But I don't. I stay awake

Worrying about you

Your confusion and how hard

This must be to be someone

You aren't every single day

1. Determine what type of the three basic YA novel types you are in:

a) If you are "not like other girls" and suddenly the hottest guy in school starts paying you attention, you are in the High School Romance novel. Just try to be upfront and honest, follow your heart, and you'll be okay.

b) If you suddenly manifest powers and/or discover a world in which everyone seems to know about a prophecy that might concern you, you are in a Chosen One novel. Stay tuned for further instruction.

c) If you suddenly find yourself being the only one who can see the manifest flaws in a broken system where the ruling elite control an impoverished normal class, you are in a Dystopian Novel. Stay tuned for further instruction.

2. So everything is on your shoulders, you're the symbol of the revolution or the One who will fix everything. That's a lot of stress, huh? Make sure that you have an obscure, hipster-ish hobby that you do on the side to help you cope. Examples include:

-archery

-sword fighting with your dreamy potential love interest

-underwater basket-weaving

-distributing food to the oppressed poor. 

These may seem a bit strange and outlandish, but trust me, they will be useful a a critical moment in your plot- er, your life!

3. Being a teenager is hard. Trying to save the world makes things harder. Trying to choose between two (or more!) Byronic and brooding teenage boys? Nearly impossible. Here are a few tips to make that choice a little easier:

-If he watches you while you sleep, stares at you constantly, or makes guilt-tripping comments to try and grab your affections, he is bad news. Stay away from this guy unless the raw passion seduces you against your will into making out with him for page after steamy page.

-If he is from your old life, sweet, and adorkable, ditch him. He is obviously not as dreamy as the dark and mysterious white guy who keeps giving you murder eyes. This guy will also likely get over you very quickly with another girl from this new world you've discovered. 

-If he is your social, military, or corporate superior, chances are he has got ties to the evil you are trying to fight. Fall in love with him anyway though, so you can reel at shock at his betrayal afterwards. 

Romance is tricky. Try to prioritize the lives of innocents over airing your drama.

4. We cannot possibly cover all of the different challenges you will face on your journey. You will meet a litany of people, so it is important to know friend from foe. 

a) The Token- Everyone loves diversity, right? When putting together your ragtag band of friends, try to have one friend of color. Not more than one though, or else it might be too hard to tell them apart. If there are suspiciously few ethnic people in your region, find a gay guy. Not a lesbian though, because she might be seen as a potential love interest, and probably will be killed off partway through the story. 

b)The Joker-This is your comic relief. Always ready with a quip and a quote. Likely has some sort of tragic backstory, and will likely die in a tragic manner. Prepare a funeral speech centered around his one true quality, his sense of humor.

c) The Frenemy- This girl likes your guy. She is often cool, confident, sexy, and 100% more qualified than you in every way. And yet you are the main character, so sit back, and relax. Eventually, she will grudgingly admit that you earned the guy, the gig, and the glory, even though you really haven't.

d) The Villain- This person is the head of the Society that you find corrupt. Or they are the head of the school you are learning to control your powers at. Or they are the head of a syndicate of ambiguous Evil that you must stop. The point is they are an adult in power, so they must be stopped at all costs. Watch for subtle foreshadowing around them, like adherence to strict rules, approval of social norms, and their nerve to tell you to keep your nose out of other people's business. Conservative in values, they clash with your vague liberalism in a way you cannot stand. 

In your YA adventure, you will find acceptance, heartache, love, and glory. You will peak at sixteen years old and live happily ever after if you succeed. Or you will go out in a blaze of glory for no point or purpose. It's up to the author really. Just try and live your life by morals that manifest overnight, and forget those morals a few days later. Oh, and miscommunication is key. Nothing better than cheap conflict! Best of luck!

My soul rests on skin like vapor

I can taste it in the air

If I move too quickly

It will disappear

So I sit here in silence

Draw a map of my existence

On fine white paper

Not knowing where to go

From this moment on

I am standing in the sky

The earth below on fire

Except for you

My last hope

My solid blue ocean

"That's because

She lo~ves me."

He sang.

I realized then

That it should

Be past tense.

Because now,

He isn't the man

That I love,

He's the man

I loved once,

A long time ago.

The past month

Has been its own

Lifetime.

I'll always care,

But I'm not

Breaking my neck

Falling from

The same cliff

That broke my

Lonely heart.

“Who could be calling me at 7:00 A.M.?” I wondered as I rolled over ,grabbing the shrilling telephone.

“I know what you did!” shrieked an ominous voice before hanging up.

Shock permeated my body as I remembered what had happened three years ago. I had become tired of that bitch’s nagging, shoving her away from me. Tripping, my wife knocked her head on the corner of the kitchen table. In horror, I felt her pulse but it was too late. She was as dead as a door nail. For an hour, I sat on the couch in abject terror, frantically thinking what to do next. I decided to roll her up in the shower curtain before placing her body in a garbage bag in my bathtub until night fell. Needless to say, I called in sick to work. Well, I was the boss, anyway, so that was no problem. Darkness came as a relief to me!

After pacing the floor the entire day, I came up with a plan. I dragged the trash bag to the kitchen door which opened to the garage, placing her in the trunk. Driving for three hours, I stopped to cover her with branches deep in the woods.

After the phone call, I knew I was probably falling into a trap but couldn’t resist driving to the disposal location to see if her body was still there. To my utter consternation, the bag was torn and empty but there was a little box on the ground.

Opening the container, I saw a note which read, “I wasn’t’ dead, you S.O.B., just unconscious. Right now, I am cleaning out our bank accounts and safety deposit box and flying the coop! My name is still on our accounts because you didn’t declare me dead!