Tag Archives: pain

Janey

by Derek Flynn

janey doesn’t want anything
that’s gonna make her cry again
she says she’s wasted
too many tears
on her girlfriend’s shoulders
are so broad and his mind
is so narrow
he thinks of only one thing
and when she won’t give it to him
he says
it’s enough to make you want to hurt her
it’s enough to make you want to hurt her

the nights roll back like the sheets
she says
i’m tired from a week of fighting
and I’m tired of you
she goes window shopping
for the things she knows she’ll never use
but she tells her friends that it makes her feel safe
every time he says
it’s enough to make you want to hurt her
it’s enough to make you want to hurt her

and after a while
it doesn’t hurt you anymore
and it’s like some kind of black relief
as you rush to meet the floor
and it’s something that surrounds you
it’s something that engulfs you
and takes you in
takes you in
and all the while you know
that he never meant to hurt you
no, he never meant to hurt you

janey gave up window shopping
and took everything in hand
left him lying face down in the rain
dying to the rhythm of some
street-corner marching band
and so she moves on
with nowhere to move onto
no one to move onto
just someone else
one more person who says

it’s enough to make you want to hurt her
it’s enough to make you want to hurt her

Author Pic

Derek Flynn is an Irish writer and musician with a Masters in Creative Writing from Trinity College, Dublin. Derek’s short story “The Healer” was recently featured in Surge, an anthology of the best new Irish writing published by O’ Brien Press. He is also a regular contributor to http://www.writing.ie where he writes his “Songbook” column. And because he obviously has a lot of time on his hands, he is currently working on his latest solo album.

Like most writers, he is fuelled solely by caffeine and self-doubt.

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Love Lies Bleeding

by DM Cross

My love lies bleeding, dying on the ground
Where only in heaven we hear without a sound
where only the clouds upon become solid ground
and rest upon the shores of the vast sea of sky
mirrored in conclusion, in the mind of the eye
you can be me, but only I can be I

My love is bleeding, dying on the ground
where only in the sky we hear without noise
where only the clouds on the ground and the rest full become
on the shores with the vast sea of the sky
reflected in conclusion, in the spirit of the eye
can be to you me, but only I then to be I

My love is bleeding, that on earth,
where only in the sky we hear without noise
where only on the banks of the expanded sea of the sky
against-reflected in conclusion become clouds on full earth
and the peace in the sense of the eye dies,
you can me be, but only I can be I

My love finds to purge itself that on the earth,
where those in the sky do not hear us without noise
where those that become the clouds on the shores of the spread sea of the sky
reflected in a conclusion on the full earth
and the rest die in the direction of the eye,
you can be me, but only I can be I

My love finds to purge itself that in the land,
where does that in the heaven not hear us without noise
where done that him becomes itself
clouds in the margins of the sea and stretch of the heaven
reflect in a conclusion in the full land and I rest in the direction of the eye,
I can be me, but alone I can be I

DSC04732

D.M. Cross is a writer from Los Angeles.  He studied Eastern philosophy and English lit at Oxford University and earned a degree in psychology from UC Santa Cruz.  He then spent the better part of a decade playing in several LA area bands.  He’s currently finishing his first book based on his experiences living in Calcutta, India for a year.

A Stone Skipped v1: Battered, Bruised, and Scarred

EDITORS NOTE: A Stone Skipped is a gorgeously broken story about a woman looking to find her way. Cheryl Vollmar has decided to tell it in installments, and Battered, Bruised, and Scarred is the painfully honest first volume. Please help me welcome her to The OCH Literary Society.

-Allie

I took a drag from my cigarette, leaned back, and exhaled. It had been another dreadful day, and I was relieved to be in the solitude of my bedroom. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and wondered how much longer I could continue this way as I winced against the debilitating cramps manifesting in my legs from working my shitty part time job at the local pizza joint.

Continue reading A Stone Skipped v1: Battered, Bruised, and Scarred

Midnight in Paris by Grace Carpenter

Liquor drips like charred oil from her eyes as she looks at him in the rearview mirror. I hate that look. I turn and look out across the bridge, all dark blue sky stretching across the streetlamps and the rumbling waters below melting into the jazz wafting from the sidewalk bars. If they ever tell you that jazz is comforting, or peaceful, or inspiring, they’re all lying. Probably to themselves, too. Jazz will seduce you like the city itself and then you will have nothing left but a hangover and a bag of half-filled dreams and no idea what to do with either.

Continue reading Midnight in Paris by Grace Carpenter