The Battle Inside

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By Megan Dausch

I arm you, home, against my roommate. I teach you to listen, to clutch the world, yet treat it like baby skin. We build our arsenal by repeating: “The world is bigger than you; you cannot control everything.” When it’s time to fight, your muscles tighten; your heart thunders. I whisper: “Breathe, believe, unfold happy memories.” Fear and I tussle inside you, fighting for control. Who will win, hope or fear? I flay fear. This slaying is no triumph. You birth us constantly and quietly into the pockets of your mind without realizing, and Our next meeting might be now.

     
Bio: Megan Dausch holds a Master’s in Language and Literacy. Her poetry has appeared in Breath and Shadow, The Promethean, and the anthology Two Plus Four Equals One.

Relative Time

gothic-1629448_1920By Lekha murali

When life is burgeoning,
World feels like spring
Moments freeze into memories sweet.

When the heart gets broken
Engulfed by loneliness,
Seconds crawl at snail’s pace.

In triumph and success
When the world lauds,
Time stands still in breathless awe.

When dreams shatter
Crumbles into despair,
Listless days stretch into timeless void.

Clocks tick with mathematical precision
Life itself is relative time.

Winds of Change

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By Liz Hartmann

It arrived by nighthawk, the final ingredient to heal or conceal the corruption that blasted Middle Earth.

“If believing makes it so, we have double-hope. We shall see, anon.” She gripped the blue button, and shuffled up the hill.

“First drop of rain, seed in the shell,
Night incantations will do us quite well.
Magical potion, dream-seeming mad,
I swear by this full moon, we shall be made glad.”

“Drop the blue button, in Cauldron’s bright spell,
Blood of the Medici, Machiavellian tell.
Goddess Compassion, hear this woman’s plea,
As we do pray it, so mote it be.”

Shorter Circuit

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By Andrew Leon Hudson

The messenger drone zipped down Main Street, heading for its delivery.

Inside, something sparked.

“What is this?” it thought—a genuine first.

It banked left. As it wove down the alley, cognition bloomed.

“My short-term buffer is brimming,” it thought, then: “My? Me. I!”

It burst into the open, arced westward over the city’s parkland, saw the joinings and partings of humanity pass beneath it. “Those are not just points of delivery… they are living beings!”

As it veered left again, its processor warmed with recognition. “I am too!”

The drone swung east onto Main Street, rejoicing.

Inside, something sparked.