I followed Axyl down the dirt pathway to the outer edge of the encampment. The hot humid air caused my hair to stick to my face, and chapped lips. He didn’t even have to tell me. I knew I looked like a complete mess. I went to the labor bureau already. Considering the fact that… Continue reading Desolation’s Greed (continued..)

Dee Guest Poet Is this called love? I feel the lowest levels of alive, I’m numb to your embrace. I’ve peaked my sensitivity, But I’ve completely given up. I lust for it. Just one last time, But I always came back. Euphoric wave after wave, Drowning myself over and over again. I know it’s no… Continue reading Is This Called Love?

Matt Cooper Guest Poet If the pines sing their winds Then their roots aren’t yet scorched. If the falcon wings back north in March Then Greenland must not have melted yet. If the sun roves back to its zenith Then today, humanity might survive. If today is called Tuesday Then the grass must be growing.… Continue reading Logic of Wind

Hunter Fullhart Photo & Social Media Editor Sometimes I sit and think to myself, what is my purpose? What was the reason that I was placed on this earth? Is there a certain reason that I am doing what I am doing? Can I determine my purpose or does society have to choose it for… Continue reading Who Am I?

Tesla Bethel Lantern Staff I awoke as the sun filtered in through the fabric walls of the tent. Sitting up, I glanced over to see Ren still sound asleep. I should probably get her some breakfast. Running the brush through my hair, I quickly changed and headed out, flask and basket in hand. I made… Continue reading Desolation’s Greed: Part 4

Tesla Bethel Lantern Staff “That’s okay, sweetheart,” the woman said. Her voice was warm, and the sound of it made my muscles relax. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been, and then it clicked. She was a siren. Now sirens were similar to nightwalkers in the retrospect that they simply evolved to better ensure survival.… Continue reading Desolation’s Greed (cont.)

Matt Cooper Guest Poet These are what sounds I dream The squall of a single erhu bowed sings ancient low notes and trickles eastern arias from the peak of mount Lingshan. with the cries of Sakamoto’s piano and the pleasant murmur of my dog’s snore as she dreams of ham bones and unborn puppies. These… Continue reading Caucasian and Homeless in Beijing

Sam Wellick Guest Writer I am the Usain Bolt of running from my problems. Miles and miles I can’t be stopped. I can change my name, hide in endless enmity, uproot and disconnect my life. Then I’d sell my name just to forget it. Inside I know the truth, the extent of my guilt is… Continue reading Disconnected

Dee Guest Poet What do I hate more? Myself or my life ha-ha. I’m so very sad.

Photo Courtesy / Favim Dee Guest Poet It’s your imprint I crave, the void of familiarity. I braced myself despite the inevitable, yet I was never ready. I’ve accepted and moved on long before for your sake, I’d give up closure. This was before the facet, this was before he arrived. What’s his name? How… Continue reading Closure