* The following was written by my sister. There is a story behind it which needs to be told in order for it to have meaning. She wrote this for me when I was 14 about to be 15 (1991). At that age I was rebelling and thought no one cared or noticed anything I did (you know, typical teenager stuff). It was a terribly lonely time in my life. After an alcohol-laced and drug-hazed evening, I woke up the next morning and decided to end it all. I took a long blade and slit my wrists (which is actually pretty superficial because you're not going to die this way unless you hack into yourself). Anyways, that got everyone's attention. In fact it was too much attention because my sister rushed me to a hospital. What I didn't know was that if you're a minor and are taken to a hospital for something like that and they also realize you're on drugs, they have to admit you into an institution. So here I was in a rehab mental ward which to me felt like the equivalent of jail. The only enjoyable part was that when I got off of suicide watch and earned my privileges to go outdoors (gee thanks, can I?), I was allowed to go into the art room. It was here that I made my clay vase. It was burnt sienna colored with tribal markings on it (oh, the Aztec in me coming out). It came out beautiful. When I got out of the asylum I put it on a shelf in the dark corner of my bedroom, all by itself (where it still sits), a reminder of this horrible chapter in my life. So after you read this poem I'm sure you will realize that I am the vase she speaks of. Thanks sis. THE MOST WONDERFUL VASE by M.C. So perfect, beautiful, and complete. Shaped by a strong yet so soft a hand. Surrounded by clutter and chaos. Covered with intricate patterns - some bent crooked - some perfectly straight. Seeming so insignificant and small sitting in the corner waiting - watching. Never realizing how important and necessary this work of art was to enhance and liven the home of which it resided so long in dark solitude. Brought out into the sunlight, the flowers within would blossom completely, Giving the final and whole purpose of the most wonderful vase. * This restless one sent me a poem with the note saying that my writings (while they were still up) had inspired him/her to write this. I am flattered and thrilled! Thank god someone read(s) my shit! THE JOURNEY by Wrestless Wraith Beginning in the womb, 'Till death in a tomb, Lifes thread weaves through the fabric of time, As we begin to grow, Experiences we come to know, Are all lost in the end, what a crime, But lets not forget, life is an adventure, And all the experience, one has to treasure, Hold them close 'cause they make us who we are, To forget them is a greater loss by far, And at the end, when death is near, Don't lose hope, let go of fear, Cast away lifes burden, now you are free, Travel through the ether, to the wonders that be, Now you have reached the beginning and the end, We will all become one, together as friends.