By Savannah Raff
Category: DAYDREAM
Categories
in that sky
By tiredartistt
Categories
Daydreaming
By Jared Meunier
By Jakai Martin
Depression, the ten letter word that controls where I go, what I eat, and when I sleep. Depression can be many things, but it can often feel like a ten mile race you never had the chance to prepare for; the best friend you never asked for, or merely an experience that can last for ten days or less………. or more. Imagine feeling like you have to go to the bathroom, but the nearest toilet is ten miles away. Imagine wanting to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but the knife to spread the condiments is ten million pounds heavy. Let’s say you’ve traveled the ten miles it takes to reach the cold tiled floor, but sadly you’re out of luck. Depression relishes the opportunity to join the girls’ group trip to the bathroom. Instead of handing you lip gloss, you’re left with cold feet and unwashed pajama pants, looking into the mirror, not recognizing who you see staring back at you– you’ll leave feeling ten pounds heavier and ten more minutes closer to death. Although cold and bitter, depression has become the closest thing to a lover I have ever felt because of its commitment to companionship. Depression is a ten letter illness that loves you like the plague and cannot be cured by modern day medicine, nor is it easily scared off by fluids and rest. Depression is the jealous lover who brought a gun to the knife fight of your life, and we all know how that ends. I have laid next to my ten lettered idol for many days and nights, yet I still feel lonelier than I did yesterday.
Categories
My Daydream
By Cailin Perez
Daydreaming for me is running away from it all. I’m leaving the mundane day to day. I run away from a safe relationship, my best friends, my amazing mother. I run from my nice room, with my nice clothes, and my nice things. I’m running toward the greener grass. I’m daydreaming about passion, love, lust, excitement.
Usually, I am daydreaming about being “The One” in everyone’s life. I dream about being “the one” best friend. The one you feel comfortable telling anything to. What makes you happy, sad, that your parents suck, how scared you are of the future, and how you wish you could love yourself more. Being “the one” best friend that after years you confess your love to. Then you share the most effortless kiss and all tension releases. It’s Euphoric. In this moment, nothing in my life will ever feel as right as that. I daydream of meeting and being “the one” who I can love and feel loved by unconditionally. The kind that sweeps you off your feet makes you nervous before date night and after a lifetime still takes the breath out of your lungs with every touch. I daydream that I will run away and find that love in some exotic, unrealistic way. I daydream about the best sex with the best music. Hopefully at the same time in the comfiest sheets with a coastal breeze flooding in the windows and the smell of sweat soaked saltwater sunscreen in the air. I daydream about good food with good people. The meals you could still taste if you thought about it long enough. I daydream about the man I wish he could be, the friend I need him to be, the ways I want her to support me, and how great it would be if that one person was out of my life.
In these dreams I’m forgetting everything there was before. Anything that ever mattered, doesn’t matter now.
I daydream about so much because I’m so far from the moment. I daydream to take the leaps I usually wouldn’t. I don’t have to risk losing everything just for the chance of something. I daydream to escape the issues I can’t seem to find in my relationship, the great friendships I’ve formed, the endless support I receive, and the incredible life I’ve had so far.
What an interesting concept a daydream is. Even when we have everything, we feel like we have nothing, so what we can imagine becomes infinite.
By Edcel Javier Cintron Gonzalez
Sometimes, my stomach rumblies send me a notification / a sensation where I’m unsure if my body will act in motion / with what my mind is feeling at the moment / and my own relationship with food from past, present, and future enrollment / as I try and try again my best to finish this doctorate degree / and how my eating has adapted the same behavior as my stress / an embodied sensation I wish I didn’t had / for sometimes, my stomach rumblies whisper to me a faint sound / a slight vibration where I am unsure of my hunger / my need for food / my desire to enjoy a taste meal / as I try to mentally prepare my own self and my hungry self for another day in school / a brave face that I wear as a mask / to not show my vulnerability towards other / the second hand embarrassment I would feel if people knew the state of my own sanity / and if they would
believe my lived experience or take it as my own exaggeration / for POC stories are set aside and thrown in the trash / as how my stomach, sometimes makes the rumblies when I feel tired / when I feel sick of eating food I love / where the taste of it is no longer there / where my nostalgia for local food from my homeland calls on me as the second coming of frozen / as the ocean calls on their islander children to come back home…
By Edcel Javier Cintron-Gonzalez
Hey Muse, One Muse, When can I rest, my Muse? / We are live streaming in a temporary space /where my muse visits me in my dreams / placing my body to rest after a long day of stress / a space where my body wishes to dream a long sleep / midday in the scene / a sensation some may describe as a nap while others / a moment of rest / where my mental state is covered in tamarind flavored ice cream / the one you can only get in the island of enchantment / where coconuts and passion fruit fuse together / to form vivid dreamsicles in your taste buds / where your mind drifts away to the illuminating beaches found in all directions around the island / a space in a vivid dream where islanders dream in two languages / a narrative, no… a memory / disguised as my childhood nostalgia / a moment where my Muse guides me in my first memory with my language learning / one language where your first words were about love, heritage, and kindness / when my mom picked me up in her arms and said “te amo Javi” / I learned to say it back “te amo mama” / where my Spanish was a secret language / only spoken at the safety of home / around the love and support of the community / as a way to calm down my fears in the face of natural destruction / in the face of swirling giants who took our home / my temporary space / my childhood… / the other language taught my five year old self / hope, friendship and success / as I gained friends who could speak my new language / as I gained acknowledgement for my almost native tongue / not the ones that sound like you are forcing the language to leave your body / where I become a walking Google translator in our family trips to Disney / where at the beginning, I thought my English came with the same care as my Spanish / younger me did not understand why the security guard stalked my mother and I for speaking our home language / younger me did not understand why people smiled at my pale skin / complemented my accent as it were a cloak of invisibility / a green flag to let them know I’m not a threat… hey Muse, one Muse… when can I dream in both languages, Muse?
Categories
coming home
By Maia Huddleston
Categories
Milk Cat Extravaganza
By Otis Buras
By Benjamin Rodriguez
I’m dying, not because my brain has ceased all explosive, obligatory function
reducing me to a vegetative state, rotting on the vine
my mother holds, keeping me there
only she remembers my nonbeing being connected to her
once and every so often, it feels all the same
my eyes are smashed in, bruised, “Who hurt you”, which is never a question I
can answer without opening a book, checking my phone, drinking coffee with a single
espresso shot to just keep me aware enough of what I am saying
sobriety is something I took for granted as I am easily addicted, hooked, and devastated
I am dying because the caffeine I ingest is refusing to touch my heart again
White Noise Zine 