Icarus

Art by Alexa Cruz Abaca Can we be bitter without setting our futures aflame? I shampoo my hair in the garden. Someone tells me to send a letter to everyone I had ever talked bad about. They return marked with black ink. I trace the outline of my veins with scissors. Who would I be if I was not me? A mirage? A reflection? A ghost? This is for my future children.

Content Warning: Gun violence

The morning dawns and the sky bleeds red. Orange and pink hues flash across the sky as\ sun breaks from under the cloud cover. I watch as gold shimmers in the light. Hope is like a miracle. I think of a man we all praise dropping bombs onto weddings and thinking this’ll change I think of poisoned water and I think of mass graves. Of stolen land, and people, across rolling seas.

I don’t think death is as beautiful as the poets say. Yes, there’s something pretty about dead roses and rotten fruit, mice skulls and bones, but I’m reminded of how easily skulls can split, or how easily bones could break, and in my heart, there’s another funeral and it’s raining. My head is rushing to meet the frozen ground, but I should be prepared for it. It’s nearly taking me three separate times,

Art by Misandry this is land of the free, and home of the brave, we love you as us, and give you a grave. we’re a welcoming country, you’ll live the dream! while we work behind the curtains and screens. make America great! keep America white! we’re killing your future who have tried to fight. we give money to the rich and bombs to the poor, and disease to families and kids to wars.

Art by Monty i have looked into the future and hate who i’ve become. words spill off their tongue like honey while cotton catches in my throat and chokes me from the inside out. i want to warn them, tell them that people will only deceive you, don’t go into that car, you won’t come out the same, something in you died that day, all the advice i wish i had taken, i don’t remember being this selfish, maybe i was mistaken?

Content Warning: Racism, Trauma, Abuse, Sexual assault

if i got sent to war- is it a fun fantasy? inserting yourself into places you don’t belong i call it - seeing the privilege of the oppressed while it’s not there am i wrong? this belief, this idea, a sense of community found in the very place, you’re not supposed to be It’s like, white saviorism yet taken to this max When it’s not about you, you make it an act And as much as you claim otherwise Doing this detracts