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fake zine has made it to another volume. first of all, thank you to all who have contributed to this volume. thank you to those who submitted, wanted to submit but didn’t, wanted to submit but couldn’t, contributed behind the scenes, and those who will read it.
i’m so grateful that i’ve been able to build a platform, however small, where we feel comfortable enough to share our thoughts, feelings, and energy. i never would’ve thought that anyone would read or look at anything i make or write, let alone have others send me their work to place alongside mine. it means so much to me that I’ve been given the privilege to witness your art.
these types of volumes will be a regular thing. if you want to submit anything, you still can. it’ll be in the next one. thank you in advance.
- vero
clare
by anonymous
Freedom is a bottle of wine
Sitting on the river, talking about how that one day ruined our lives
Or rather ended our previous ones
Our tears flow into a stream all too familiar with grief
We are new beings now, far away from ourselves.
Are you real? Are you there with me?
You have a name that hurts to hear
But the end demands silence and the blow fails to land
For the pain that remains, your kind, puffy cheeks remind me not to think about it too much
With every swig, our souls intertwine
This is not love, but I’m content with it
Besides, your husband wouldn’t like that
This is what I needed
I feel something growing inside of me
An echo that sours in my mouth the longer I hold it in
The only thing left to do is
Wash it down and remember the taste of second-hand cigarettes
Thank you Calypso.
kayleigh
jef
peach by milo tantillo
I think I am more like
A peach than an onion.
Yes, I think there are layers to me
And my whole being.
But my layers...
They're more like a stone fruit.
My fuzzy exterior is not for everyone.
I get it.
But once you get past the fuzz,
Into my juicy lil' feelings,
I'm a treat that comes with rewards.
Be warned; if you enjoy the fruit...
Eventually you'll meet the pit.
My pit is not for everyone.
The pit shows itself in mysterious
And inconvenient ways.
The pit likes to think it's smarter than me
And my whole being.
My pit has swallowed me whole before.
The pit chokes me to sleep, some nights.
The pit walks me down the street on hot days...
My pit may change throughout my life.
Get new grooves, darken,
Soften, dry out, get bigger,
So much bigger...
But my pit's with me 'til I die.
It's ok though. When I die,
My pit will be buried.
And I can only hope that one day,
Long after I'm gone,
It bears fruit.
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