Photography by Neonbrand
When you are at the saddest point in your life you feel as if there is nothing left. All you have are memories. All you have are hopes and dreams. Now those things you held dear are no comfort. They feel like talons dragging across your brow. Yet, when you are down for the count all you can do is look up. The sun flickers on your tears and there it is hope. A hope of new beginnings. Such beautiful beginnings, parts of you had to die, in order to see them. I guess my ass is a zombie then? ‘Cause I have done more in death than in life.
Christina M. Watkins
This mag explores situations within duplicitous demographics and highlights on a plethora of issues– some areas of double standards will be familiar to you, but many will force you to explore and interrogate your own perception and empathize with another perspective. In this issue, we include art, photography, articles, and poetry from various artists.
Do not dream nor anticipate my arrival
Either way I will not come
The snow of winter
The rain of storm
The hail of disaster
Be your tears
That’ll flow like the river
I wish I could reminisce like you for some sorta time and space I felt safe. But since a young age I had to learn to hold myself and know despite it all, I was still enough. But as you would have guessed, I didn’t know that and spiralled down a really dark path. No, there were no alcohol and drugs, there was something worse, the constant battle with crippling feelings of ‘not enough’.
Imagine growing up believing you should not exist at all. Imagine how would you turn out. I wish I could say I’m turned out ok, but I guess that’s not the complete truth. Even though you may see me holding it together, I’m no more found than you.
We’re lost and alone in the journey back home trying to grow along the way. Even if we do find souls that help us carry the load, in the end we’re the ones to answer to what we let go.
Maybe it would be easier had I learned differently from what my childhood branded in me. But I’ll never know and it doesn’t matter. I’ve learned to make of my self what brings me peace and let go of the misconceptions in my system of beliefs.
© Máh Lima
When you left I looked for you
in all the faces I saw,
in every crowded street,
in all the places we had been.
The first two therapists I saw were both pastors. While living with my parents, it was hard to even convince my mom to let me see a therapist, so a person of the clergy with a psychology degree was a good compromise for them. Continue reading Sliding Scale
GENRE SPOKEN WORD CONTEST (Aug 21st – Sept 3rd)
MJ Fouldes was selected as a runner up for the Genre Spoken contest that was held from Aug 21st – Sept 3rd.
The topic that was selected for the contest was fear.
Enjoy his chilling entry and make sure to follow him on instagram! @mjfouldes
a frustrated poet hides himself away from the world –
he is writing for his survival, FIGHTING to be timeless.
– Rico Lowe Jr. | @panafrico