We can't afford the finer things in life so we heist them all... We're criminals that never break the law!

While I sleep my wife writes words
on my back.
She wants me to feel what she thinks,
what's inside her chest.
When I wake the letter Q boils between
my shoulder blades
as if it were branded or etched.
I think she traced C
but there's longing in her and she hates
the word covet.
Her delicate hands can’t hold desire.
She is sitting on top of me
naked, though her hair clothes her.
The bed isn't large
enough for this love tracing from her
fingers. The room
diminishes when she opens her eyes.

Room With a Bed in the Middle by Curtis Bauer

The land of the blind

The Mother of Invention by Andy Bowser and Joseph M. Petrick

for t

the dream of him
holding me, knowing me
the gentleness of his skin
pressing softly,
quietly against mine,
he fills me up with memory
of a wild deer
in a dark green stillness,
strength full of innocence
uncomplicated and free

The Good Husband by J.L. Stanley

You control

Hi, pleased to meet you, my name is Lloyd Dobler,
I'll get straight to the point, won't take too much time from ya.

I'm probably the youngest person you'll get advice from today,
and you may think that a guy my age wouldn't have anything to say,
but it's said that observation, not old age, brings wisdom,
and I observe every single life lesson I'm given.

I won't attempt tell you how to love or be loved,
because you get a different genie each time that lantern is rubbed.
But I will offer you advice on dealing with life,
its ups and its downs, its troubles and its strifes.

Now I'm sure you've had times when you've felt down or angry,
wanted to lash out, punch a wall and be manly,
but the question I pose now will offer you a plan B,
and maybe some peace and quiet for your friends and family:

How hard is it to decide to be in a good mood,
and then just be in a good mood?
That's all I have to say because it's a straight up fact,
You control your emotions, it's as simple as that.

Waiting For The Beat To Kick In by Dan Les Sac vs. Scroobius Pip

It was not easy to live, being young, being so completely alone

In the dark we watch
our son's chest
swell and fall,
a balsa-wood airplane
still clutched in his fist
as he sleeps.
How reckless it seems.
How naive:
to love a thing
so fragile and so weak.

Our Situation by Patrick Phillips