YWP Alumni


  • By bugss


    We ride our bikes into the brush 
    flying effortlessly down winding thin roads
    endlessly searching and reaching for that next breath
    that next grace 
    to lift the weight of gravel inside our stomachs
  • By bugss


    i am trapped in that broken state of consciousness
    between sleep and wake
    where the rest and rem comes from a deeper sort of aching need 
    in the early hours of time

    branches shift against your window,
  • By bugss


    i think it was your brother
    that told me
    how you nearly killed yourself

    but i spent a while 
    hidden in the knowledge
    of your pain
    as if i could have somehow known
    before he told me
  • By bugss


    the futility i feel represented in the emotions
    of happy people that surround me
    is overwhelmingly apparent

    i keep returning to thoughts
    of pity and distain
    rank with sickly precaution
    and reprehensible entitlement
  • By bugss


    there is a store
    you usually buy hunting things at
    and on our hands and knees
    we released ourselves into the clothing section
    to collect the sizing tags
    that had fallen off the hangers

    handfuls of colorful cylinders