By Sammy Ginsberg I look up at the flag, I guess that’s where I want to beoff in the distance sliver of hope, yet every so often,as I take steps towards tomorrow,i look off at the horns,they play jazz and make me want to sit,to appreciate the moment,stop going where I want to be and…

By Sammy Ginsberg There was a moment I wanted to write aboutI felt it’s marvel the moment it dropped into thoughtand rolled across the floor,but now its outsideof the chalk white lineand i am scattering in the darkdragging my hands through the dust,looking for this marvel,so that I can preserve that momentlike a flower pressedlike…

By Sammy Ginsberg Sitting in classmy mind up my assand the whole room going insane.It’s like a condom on my brainand nothing can get inand I am getting thinand I want to go home and eat,to hear those moving feet,those engines softly flooringas they eagerly escape.No more learning, no more thinkingI’ll turn my mind into…

By Sammy Ginsberg Feeling doubtful of whyI want to do anything.All the things I once felt joy inseem not so joyful.I feel like Elizabeth, with my servant dead,my younger brother dead,my mother dead,and my loving cousin off at college.Except that no one is dead,and everyone is here,and only the thoughts in my head are dead,silent…

By Sammy Ginsberg I want to make a move,to be reckless.And daunting,and not care when people laughor say rude things that they don’t know are rude,to have my cheeks flush because some one looked at me,to have my tongue turn into a magneton the inside of my cheeks,and my words go up and down.But, could…

By Sammy Ginsberg I feel weirdspacedlike the gas that cracks my backfell up into my face.

By Sammy Ginsberg I was a blow up doll for a while Blown up for his needs Dependent on his use or else left alone,whispering through microscopic holes until I was empty and flat.A bed for a mouse.

By Sammy Ginsberg and at the moment, i too wantto say the same, to say”sorry i exist”because i feel a yelling in my soul,and i could consider it now”sorry i exist”and no longer exist, just swirling dust that smells of Beyonce Heat,but only that when it is nightand i just mighthave gold glitter lotion on…

By Sammy Ginsberg she is the reason, i mostly regretgoing so far far away.i want to see her grow up,see her be a bitchy thirteen year oldand hear about her day, as i stroke her headnot on a phone, over Skype, in a message, or letter, or email, or text. i want to hold her…