Inscriptions 2017, Lit Mag

INSCRIPTIONS 2017 a magazine for creators

Shawnee Mission South Presents...

Inscriptions

5800 West 107th Street Overland Park, KS 66207 913.993.7500 www.smsd.org

a magazine for creators

A Note From the Editor: Ever since I found out about inscriptions I knew it was the place for me.

As a writer myself I know how hard it can be to get your work out there And as a member of inscriptions I felt i could make a difference in making that job a little easier. This magazine holds a piece of my heart, and i hope it captures a part of yours too.

WRITE ON! Gabrielle brazzell

We Are Not The Innocent Youth I admit I can be a little self-centered sometimes.

Is that a crime?

Pretty sure it’s not the kind where you pay time.

Loving yourself is really respecting yourself Being positive Accepting who you are.

But, most people really don’t care.

They are too focused on the outside. On the things that don’t matter.

It is what’s on the inside that counts.

Don’t worry about how much is in your bank account.

We need to rise above.

Rise above the hate.

Rise above the weight that drags us down.

This community needs hope.

Someone to shine the light.

To be the knight.

No one should care if you’re black or white.

We need to change the way we think. Be more open-minded, and stop acting like you have been blinded.

Blinded from the truth.

We are not the innocent youth.

Lillian Sheldon

Art by REBECCA BRODINE

Pale Pink You are nothing but a pale pink scar, Faded, yet still there.

One of the many that litter my body, Yet one of the few that define me.

I can still feel sting from when you made your mark, A smile on your face As I fell to the floor.

You expected me to cry, To beg you to stop.

But I didn’t.

You should have known from one look at my arms and legs, It takes more than a little slash

To defeat me.

Amber Mills

Art by Grace Brazzell

To die on the side of the road, In front of an old peach tree, That’s how I want to go, Young, wild and free.

I want to be remembered by many.

No matter if they are 24, 52 or 3.

I want my last moments to be in a cool summer breeze, Watching the sun as it turns high in a bright blue sky, Leaves whispering to one another above my head, A small hum on my lips as I try to remember a better day.

I want to have one last taste of sweetness, Preferably a kiss from you, One that seems to last forever, Yet leaves me wanting more.

Whether I die on the side of the road, Under that old peach tree, Or here in this hospital, Muffled by these machines, As long as I have you, Know that I’ll always be free.

Peach Amber Mills

THE MIRROR GOES BOTH WAYS Mirror Mirror On the wall Who’s the fairest, of them all?

Not I, says the girl staring back at herself The self that she’s grown to loathe The self that’s been picked apart by the vultures That constantly circle overhead crowing Conceal this. Pluck that. Squeeze into those jeans.

Hide everything.

Don’t let others see Those minor imperfections That we all share And no one should care If you’ve got freckles If your eyebrows don’t have God forbid—the perfect arch Or they’re too thin Or too thick to match the trends that change like the tide No one should care If you’ve got a little meat on your bones, or if you’ve got a little less Or even how you dress Yet girls, younger and younger each year Still find themselves standing in front of those cursed mirrors Trying to wipe out every inch of them that is them, Trying to become the proverbial blank canvas Paint me Sephora, just as long as you paint me like a pretty girl And the girls are not alone

Art BY GRACE BRAZZELL

SYAW HTOB SEOG RORRIM EHT Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the buffest of them all?

Not I, says the boy flexing an arm, hoping it’s enough More push ups. More sit ups. More weights.

Gotta be fit. Gotta be hot.

Gotta get that six pack That makes the girls jaws drop And these boys have gotta Run run run till their legs fall off Lift lift lift till their arms are like boulders Strong like bull Because that’s what the girls want Gotta use those ’roids, that special juice To keep em pumped up Uh huh Because that’s what girls want Mr. Beefcake Mr. Muscle That’s what I’ve gotta be Even if it’s not me So next time you’re standing in front of the mirror Big or small Buff or not Girl or boy Stand there and say with the broadest smile on your face Mirror mirror on the wall You can suck it I don’t need you at all

Gabrielle Brazzell

I was told love was art something created entirely of beauty warmth and a feeling of home but could indeed shatter my heart No one made me feel the way you did the beating in my chest the knots in my stomach my trembling hands I thought it was all normal till I could barely stand when my breath became short and my eyes grew heavy my head became light I knew a panic attack was about to spike. you grab my cheeks & as you pull me close and kiss me I begin to feel weak this isn’t what I want it’s not what I please please let me go I feel so trapped I long to be free your hand on my back makes my stomach fall to the floor each time I flinch away it’s like you came at me for more you tried to grab my a-wait— shouldn’t you grab the door?

you can’t keep your hands to yourself while sitting together your hand slips up my thigh you knew that was a trigger so what did you want?

To see how high you could sneak your hand up before I began to cry? the smell of your car lingers near where I should have felt safe but instead, was full of fear this was where it all happened the lies. They started here how could I ever have trusted you always leaving me in despair You left me with an aching heart, Knowing we would someday depart.

Somehow I let you convince me That our love was Art.

A SAGE ELDINGROFF

Art by Grace Brazzell

What would you do if I was suddenly gone?

No chance of ever coming back?

Would you burst into tears? Clutch your chest as your heart feels like it is breaking?

Or would you simply comment on how horrid the situation is and move on?

Would you look up at the sky, a scream in your throat as you search for me among the clouds?

Or would you continue walking down the sidewalk, mind on a million different things, none of them pertaining to me.

Would you curl up in your bed? Not caring as you soaked your pillow with tears?

Or would you just plop down and mess around on your phone, already luring another girl into your trap.

What would you do if I was gone?

Vanished off the face of the earth for good.

Would you miss the way I talk, turning to different accents every few words?

Would you miss the way I walk?

Always slightly swinging my hips no matter how I felt.

Would you miss the way I laugh?

The way it can be deep and forced one minute then light and high the next?

Would you miss the way I show my love?

With over excessive hugs and violent words for anyone who dared to hurt you in any way?

Would you miss the way I listen?

Eyes focused solely on you as you rant about your woes, your pain, your suffering, Only ever interrupting to whisper kind words and urge you on, Quietly formulating what to say to perhaps get a smile back on your face.

Would you miss me Like I know I would miss you?

I like to think you would cry for me.

That you would grieve Since I know that I would do that for you.

But despite how many times you have said you would miss me, Told me that you love me and don’t want me to leave, I still can’t help these thoughts.

I still think there is going to be a day, You’ll be fed up A day you will no longer want me.

And that day, I know my world will shatter, For I know that I will always want you.

And no matter what you do, what you say, I’ll always come crawling back.

Ready and willing to give you another chance.

Because I love you And I am not ready to let you go.

So again I ask Would you miss me?

Like I already miss you?

ART BY YULIANA Santibanez

WOULD YOU MISS ME? AMBER MILLS

ON ANOTHER EARTH

On another earth I live in peace I feel no pain No stress No judgement Nothing bad can ever happen to me I will live forever On another earth there is no media I am much more social here Here I live in reality In the moment I appreciate my surroundings Even though my surroundings no longer include you You have slipped from my hands To the tips of my fingers On another earth I do not stare blankly at my feet Instead I am jumping with joy On another earth it is warm and breezy I do not feel cold and uneven The way that I used to I feel happy I am happy No longer blue

On another earth there are no symbols We are all one At least we used to be On another earth I am not scared of my dreams I pursue them instead of fear them I stand with power and greatness No trembling breaths No anxiety I’m fully aware of myself and Of who I am On another earth I say today is my day I do this every day and I thrive I will not hide any longer There are no losses We celebrate instead of segregate On another earth I am free I do as I please On another earth you do not leave On another earth I do not hate you You do not make me sick I appreciate you

JOSIE REYNOLDS

On another earth there is no running You are here with me to stay On another earth I do not fight my own battles There are no battles to be fought That’s what I used to think Until I realized my biggest battle was you On another earth I do not sit in silence Wondering when you will come back to me If you have found your own happiness My head’s not spinning around and around again Stuck on the thought of you On another earth I do not wonder why you have left me Alone All on my own On another earth there is love Love for us you and me On another earth I shed no tears I do not care for your new life I do not miss the thought of you I do not count the days until I will see you next Because on another earth you are always beside me

I miss you dad.

I Don't Like Poetry I don’t like poetry I don’t like overused metaphors, But she is a flower, beautiful and delicate I don’t like long descriptive words, I find them bombastic and loquacious I don’t like sentences that say more than they need to, they just seem to go on and on and on… endlessly in the celestial cosmos we call time and space, never to come to a halt I don’t like long dramatic pauses

I don’t like sad poems, probably because I’m bad at writing them even though I’m always sad I don’t like happy poems, stop flaunting your emotional stability...

I’m happy for you though I don’t like poems, They are supposed to be an outlet but I can never find the right words, then get mad and need to find another outlet to relieve my stress I don’t like big obvious shifts in poetry I like thick blankets and mist that block out the morning sun I don’t like contradictions I like contradictions I don’t like when people get off topic I don’t like bees, they’re the worst, I’m honestly afraid of them, did you know they’re dying at a rapid rate around the world currently?

It’s due to...

I don’t like you I don’t like crowds I don’t like repetition I don’t like poetry

Anton Caruso

DANCER GIRL “Dancer girl” dancer girl the expectation of perfection she’s the exception when perfection is not her intention while girls move mechanic to pass inspection exposed shoulders grab attention like soldiers at attention they pay attention listening to the lesson she doesn’t hear no reception Art by Grace Brazzell

dancer girl with no pattern but she holds a message in her body’s tension dancer girl her limbs wiggle her body just flops she’s just kind of…shaking about she’s got a flipped perspective when she’s head over heels

over head over heels over head over heels over head over heals over head over heels she the only one who rests and lets her body heal while the others skip their meals for an ideal figure it just goes to figure that in their mechanic world she’s the only one that truly feels she’s not a dancer girl she’s just a girl that likes to dance Anton Caruso

Discrimination Discrimination.

Why can’t I be me.

Why can’t I be free.

Why do I have to come up in a society, that doesn’t even honor me.

You see, being black isn’t wack.

And where I come from, it’s a little throwback.

The color of my skin is not my definition.

If you dig a little deeper you’ll notice my ambition.

But when it comes to these things, I like to intervene. we’re all equal don’t let anyone stop you from achieving your dreams.

Not even discrimination.

I’m not one to sit here and rant, but literally I can’t.

Discrimination.

A word that is so deeply defined, that honestly I don’t have the time to sit here and, twine about a word that shouldn’t even exist.

A word, when heard I instantly twitch.

You don’t even know me and the first statement that comes out of your mouth is that little black “b*”

Discrimination.

Art

by I

sis P

ere

z

It’s disgusting.

I’m 17 now and I just started trusting, now it’s come to adjusting?

There’s no reason for me to stay, And portray.

An image that you want to stray away from.

It makes me numb...

That you couldn’t just give me a chance.

That I was just another glance..

Over your shoulder..

Discrimination.

I took your hate and turned it into faith.

I walk strong, with my head high bc I know I belong.

I won’t sit here and feed into the lies about how one’s religion, race or sexuality makes them any less superior than the average person.

The bs, too hard to stress, and now I’m really pressed I mean.

I’m a teen, so everything I’ve seen hasn’t really had its own big screen.

Deonae Groves

The Process

Robert E Dupin III

Someone once said to me Friends are your chosen family So if that’s the case I guess I’d say With you I’ve won the lottery Your hearts are gold Your intentions true It is with you and no one else That I’m allowed to bare my chest I share with you my hopes and dreams You know my deepest darkest fantasies Yet you don’t leave The world may knock me down But I don’t care I know that you’ll always be there Standing with an outstretched hand Beckoning me to rise again And know, I’ll do the same There’s quotes upon quotes of what

friendship should be That they should do this or that in order to succeed But in all reality You have gone above and beyond The phrases strung together with quotation marks They’re just words And I’ve come to learn Actions speak far louder You’ve plucked the tendons of my heart Played me a song I love And now I know we’ll never part Because Someone once told me Friends are your chosen family So I guess I’d say -No--more like definitely With you I’ve won The lottery

CHOSEN FAMILY Gabrielle Brazzell

You’re packing up your sleeping bag Your lantern and your tent And you’re off to find the life you lost But you’re not sure where it went And I hope those mountains teach you How to stand both tall and proud That you see your life much clearer With your head above the cloud I hope you swim through rivers With their currents swift and fast That they show you must be careful When you wash away your past I hope that you are humbled By the vastness of the sea That the eagles high above you Make you feel like you are free I hope when night has fallen And your fires just a spark That the stars shine reminds you That there’s beauty in the dark But most of all I’m hoping That you’re learning while you roam That no matter the distance You can always come back home

Jordan Leichty

Art by

‘‘

Art by Shelby Roff

Apple Bobber Anton Caruso Apple Bobber Pencil topper Full grown toddler Denim rocker Morning logger Mourning father Water torture Chinese fortune Heal, nurture Mind contortion Circle vulture Survived abortion Passed away Body distortion Underprivileged Sacrilegious San Francisco West coast vision Van man livin’ Joy division Tom cruise mission You stayed at home, you’re left wishin’ Penny slots Unsung thoughts Vision blotched My body rots In hot sun spots My blood clots Hide mistakes under handgun shots

Communal housing Stalk your prey Cat and mousing In hot sun spots My blood clots Hide mistakes under handgun shots Communal housing Stalk your prey Cat and mousing Scissored bangs Gas can dowsing Talk arousing Friends couch crashing Nerves decay We’ll never find a place to stay Snake skin pit Blank slate face Thin wax lips Ripped black lace Kick me down your spiral staircase Genghis Khan Takes feminine shape Red lights on Cheetah briefcase Kick me down I’m a charity case Paint drip Tear drip Can of mace Ink prick

Think thick Taste your waste First aide kit Time slot prime If both shoes fit crabwalk the line Made with chalk Grain white and fine Split my mind I won’t mind Push down harder Till both sides bind Dig deeper until you find Finders keepers But who wants to keep a mental mind?

Hand sanitizer Cynthia Flores

i buy a bottle of hand sanitizer every month. see, i like to be cleanly i revel and smile at the catalogs bed bath and bodyworks sends me, and i choose the seasonal smells because you can only get them so often. but i haven’t bought any lately i think it’s because the last scent smelled a little too much like you. i don’t want to think about your hands because cinnamon reminds me of them too, because if i think about your hands and cinnamon then i think of the way that you brushed your hands around my waist and my nostrils burned cinnamon, because he told me if we both smelled cinnamon we’d be even deeper in love, cinnamon is supposed to comfort and heal but cinnamon leaves me with a dry throat and hallucinating cuts on me that seem to real– CINNAMON, cinnamon, tell him it gives me a headache but i don’t know why, the same scent that if i even take a whiff i feel like i’ll break down and cry but i can’t. because the girl beside me’s been staring at me staring at a bottle of hand sanitizer. sweet pea... sweet pea leaves me crying at night since you called me sweet pea you called me baby as if the irony of the scent was funny, but not as entertaining as when you’d purposefully get me scared, letting out rumbling chuckles moments after telling me you’d never really cared i cry and you laugh because “sweet pea! learn to take a joke” japanese cherry blossom isn’t as potent as the rest. flowers don’t scare me nearly as much as he does, i can’t quite place my finger on it but all my eyes and my head and my nose feel is a buzz, and i can’t help but feel like he was closer than he ever really was as if he was right there whispering in my ear telling me how much he loves; loves me as much as he loves flowers...the thought makes me sick. and jasmine, he told me jasmine makes you seem prettier, but why, how does it do that, lord stop asking questions because now it’s him i’m starting to frustrate oh right, he said that at least when i smell like jasmine i’m easier to manipulate then he laughs, it’s a joke, but not the jasmine - me - the joke i’m the reason nothing works,

he’s conditioned me to blame everything on myself, i’m the one who’s at fault here, the one who ruined everything, i was the one who said i don’t think we’d ever get far enough so on my finger there’d be a ring, and it scares me now to think i’d spend my life with him– stop. i’m getting too ahead of myself. see look, there’s new scents of lotion for the season isn’t that great? but the scent is so nauseating jesus christ you need to puke, you rush to the bathroom because it’s easier to face toilets than your past don’t look in the mirror, you’ll think about him for some godforsaken reason just wash the scent off your hands, because cinnamon hurts and and he hurt me– turn to the doorway and focus on the mother and her kids. but even somehow then i think of him; there’s no way to escape it, i suppose i say he’s gone and i’ll never think of him again but you lie. touches on my back still burn and long hugs makes me feel like i’m being swallowed alive, he convinced me that leaving would hurt me more than it hurt him, and went ahead and shattered my heart and his, better than before i struggled to pick up the shards that were left, finding it harder to talk about my feelings than to write about them, besides who would take a girl seriously who would rather chew glass than cinnamon flavored gum who takes a step into bed bath and body works and feels my stomach lurch and body numb because i’m more afraid of hand sanitizers than i am of my future. i look at the hand sanitizer and sigh. maybe it’s time to change. i changed my routines and cut off my hair, hoping a new me could forget him saying what i should wear. and then i realize, there’s more to life than hand sanitizer i’ll take pride in the fact that no matter how hard he tried to shoot me down, i was always a fighter and better things happen when i move on and remember to never dwell on the past for too long. it’s nice to get a text from that guy i’ve been talking to, because it doesn’t hurt to try again with someone new. i pick up a bottle of lotion. it smells like apples. and i deserve it.

ANTON CARUSO

OCD OCD OCD

Art By Grace Brazzell

ANTON CARUSO

OCD OCD OCD

Art By Grace Brazzell

the unwashed reststop people, dogs, food, and plumbing heaven near Pueblo

lunch on a lookout we see storms to the southwest we should turn back now

look! a water park a midsummer night’s wetdream we don’t have swimsuits

creepy cabin it’s owned by the government I’m sure that it’s haunted

lost in the backroads there are many dirt roads here time to ask for help

silky strings hang down a forest of little worms they are everywhere

strange talk on the trail you go to the Met and I visit the Nelson

cheap thrills, aspen grove not too hot and not too cold now this is living

cold and pure stream water great for drinking, better for washing the dishes

what’s with these rock walls prehistoric Donald Trump wack geology

how much further, where is the water, everyone needs a spirit guide

purple rocks are strewn across this exposed campsite let’s keep looking

town lights shine below isolated amongst the peaks i’m happier here

sleeping on a slope there is a rock in my back but I still slept well

getting burned up here sunscreen above the treeline wait now it’s cloudy

rocks are slick when wet nature comes with no warning the trees are slick too

POEMS FROM THE Spanish Peaks LILY WAGNER

damp campsite at night tomato sauce and couscous who would eat that? us. baseball in the road stick and stone, bus take us home major leagues, baby

iconic narcotic Cut it with a straight edge, that’s ironic feelings are chronic Brought without logic emotions out of the bionic She broke in with a lock pick To purify the toxic Joint sockets Fill his deep pockets Talk to him, but change the topic Sporadically lethargic Emotionally allergic Is he artistic or autistic Puzzling simplistic Awkwardly explicit He’s mad he’s livid Watercolor skin contains his mind’s limits Half a lung half of half a lungs Yellowed teeth with bleeding gums Coffee stained ivory picked by twitching thumbs He’s just a kid with a gun He kids just for fun He’s a kid just for fun He’s sleep deprived The dead hour arrived Right on time But he feels alive He’s exhausted yet he thrives He kills brain cells to kill time He turns on the tv and hears

Black lives black lives, gold badges and black ties News reporters with cat eyes Red faces telling white lies White wine and bleach blonde orange county housewives He just sighs and turns it off He turns over and turns off His message subliminal His movements are minimal Rotting millennial Plastic surgeon general Says he’s feral He’s illiterate He’s sterile He’s ignorant He has chewed finger tips Finger tips ripping away at dead skin lips Synthesized loops played over teasing hips He has a final night list A euthanizing wish She’s hooked to an IV drip She’s hooked on a blank face Her mind is a fever She always talks about getting her own place She always talks about how she needs space She always talks about how the fun is in the chase She always talks She’s bitter sweet like a found dog poster She leaves her mark wherever she goes So she brings a coaster She just coasts She just coasts through her life She’s a roller coaster She’s alive in the night Ever since she broke up with the sun Ever since she left the kid with the gun

Anton Caruso

Rumi

By Isis Perez

Gravy

By Grace Brazzell

Human song

The song, a song of great joy, a song of great music, of dreams of girls and boys.

This song is for dancing, for moving, expressing, for roaming, and nature of roving and wond’ring.

The song, a song of longing and crying, destruction and searching, for those who are dying, this song’s for the kids, the ones who are missing, and the lovers’ goodbyes as relationship dies.

This cycle will end, and a new one begin, and we’ll start again, with vigor and zing, to express ourselves once more, to move and to be.

The Earth will tremble, and the heavens will ring, with this amazing song that all humans sing.

The song, for a world that is broken and crushed, and all of its people, a multitude, a rush, are a gathering waterfall of tumbling tears, as the musical melody dies to noise in our ears.

The song, now only a senseless rumble, a tumult as we in great darkness stumble, but that song carries on, though noise it may be, and it still travels on ‘til it dies in the sea. ashlee Thao art by Grace brazzell

I’m so sorry for being blind, for being the weakness of humankind, for being the stumbling block of the human race, for having the trait that brings many to disgrace.

I only want to help your lonely soul in this world that you think is so brutal and cold.

If you don’t want me here, then I’ll wait for you.

I’ll just leave you to do whatever you do.

I’m sorry for being the chink in your armor, for being an enemy ship in your country’s waters, for being the only crack of your mighty strong house, for being that unwanted spouse.

I’m here to serve you in whatever task you have for me. You only need ask.

If you don’t want me here, I’ll be waiting for you.

I’ll just leave you to do whatever you do.

I’m so sorry for telling the truth, even when it tortures and pierces you.

I’m also here to apologize for all the countless and bitter little lies.

I’m sorry for being the pain that never goes away, for being the damper of your day, for being the noose, that sad hanging rope.

I really just want to help you grow, to boost your strengths and improve what you know.

If you don’t want me here, I’ll still wait here for you.

I’ll just leave you to do whatever you do.

I only want to see a new transformation.

I only want to see reconciliation, to watch you forgive others, and someday me, to be who you always were destined to be, to watch you grow and finally understand that I’m not your enemy but that you’re my friend.

I know you haven’t quite moved past what I’ve done, but I’m sure we can move past this, so until we’re gone, go do what you do, and I’ll do my part, and maybe someday, we’ll both have change of heart.

Maybe someday, we’ll have a chance to restart.

Art by Yuliana Santibanez

A NOTE OF APOLOGY Ashlee Thao

The straight and Narrow

I don’t know what to do I say I feel like I’m drowning You say you feel the same way too And I’m clueless how to love Someone like you I’m walking on eggshells Fearing one wrong move Will send you reeling Into despair And it’s because I care So deep and profoundly That I let all these worries Pile up all around me Tall as skyscrapers, mountains, clouds Each day I fear they’ll tumble down And suffocate us both What I want the most Is for you to be happy And I would gladly Do anything to make that a reality But sadly You’re on a slippery slope

And I should know Because I was on the same one Once before You say you wouldn’t dare But sometimes I’m scared That your words are nothing but air And it’s terrible In fact it’s quite unbearable To see you in such suffering And I can’t do an effin thing Except tell you such trifle things Things others before have said to me That I’m now just regurgitating And I can say them till I’m red in the face And I can try and chase Away every bad thought and dream Everyone who’s ever been mean But unfortunately We both know that’s an impossibility All I can offer Is myself as a buffer Between you and the dark So let us embark

On this journey together Let me be your tether Your rock Your preserver Let this rough tide take you no further I can be your guide I will take you to the other side Towards safety and sunny skies A place where you won’t have to hide Behind the masks that you’ve created Don’t have to fake it Anymore So darling head with me towards shore So I can see you smile once more

Gabrielle brazzell

by Grace brazzell

Airplane Airplane Matthew Peck

Airplane, Airplane sorry I’m late I’m on my way so don’t close that gate You’re my transportation to my favorite city The city with mountains and snow, oh so pretty In the early morning you prepare To rise 35,000 plus feet-in-the-air So slick and so smooth With an amazing flight crew A cold Dr. Pepper and some beats by Locksmith New people, left and right, to socialize with Like people in the Manifest Destiny age riding the wagon train I could never stop riding this Boeing plane

photo by grace brazzell

Minimal effort millennials with obese bellies full Of fast food, we are the human trash of the world expecting diamonds and pearls Stupid decisions and substance abuse to disappear for a few hours and cut loose We are teens Drinkin teens, keefin teens Football field streakin teens Sleazin teens, beefin teens Disappear for the weekend teens Thiefin teens, parents don’t want to keep them teens These are not the die old and go to the golden kingdom teens These are the just trying to get higher The live wires, the hair dyers The impulsive liar teens Because what do you do with the no good teens The try to act hood teens The we’ve done all we could teens Sedate them, berate them Medicate them when you no longer can tolerate them When their parents hate them When teachers are stuck with them for another year Because they can’t graduate them Art By Grace Brazell

I’m only 17 but I’ve lived a lot of life To know what I know you’ve gotta live twice Age is a tease that just keeps pulling you along Promising you better until you’re dead and gone That’s why I’m staying a teen

ANTON CARUSO

Purple Interior by Maddy Westcott

I’m supposed to be good with words, but these words could be misunderstood cuz I tend to split definitions like they supposed to knit together something more than “lit”.

I want words for you to be alive, on fire Like maybe something I do could inspire you to admire my brain’s ability to cut through my BS and get to it.

But I’m dancing around the subject like I always do.

It’s true I don’t even know if you just wanna have me be your Marilyn Monroe But dang I’m taking that risk and I’ve got my baggage in tow This the kinda thing that makes me wanna take it slow But I’m a club rat to neon lights And God your glow is electric.

Sin became my church but you refused to let me just be a preacher You warmed me and made your beast into another creature My stuff’s lame, I know that.

You’re not playing games, even though you’re good at pool on HTML frames.

But you know about flames, don’t you?

Been through trials of fire and you’ve got plenty more ahead of you.

But you know you got a crew right?

If I got to, I will fight for you too.

You a big man now but baby you gotta stay with that clean style.

Hard times may be ahead but baby you got me crazy in the head and I know you kinda shy, boy; but I promised and I pledged it’d be you I make happy.

Yeah my flow is sappy.

Classical rap, call it crappy.

But dang it, can you blame me For wanting you to be happy?

I don’t got much, but I got you Cause you’ve gone and trapped me.

You greedy and I’m needy so let’s meet in the middle.

Word intersections I’m eating up like doggos eating kibble.

Baby what I’m trying to say In my oh so very lame way Is that I love you and I want you to stay So a year from today I can write you not just a poem but a whole dang play Because even if you don’t want this to be a special day I still love you and you know, things will be okay.

Changed Me For the Better Isis Perez

ART BY COLE FORNAL

COOPER REYNOLDS

Editor-in-Chief

| Gabrielle Brazzell

Adviser | Julie Fales Staff Members Isis Perez Lucas Kessler Grace Brazzell Alana Parsons Stephanie Rogers Anna Troffimoff Haley Hill Cristian DeAnda Keegan Juan Uribe Aidan Kopp

Cover art by Grace Brazzell