Strawberry Zine Issue Two: Antidote

Strawberry Zine

Welcome to

Strawberry Zine The Antidote Issue

Cover art by Herdini Aprilia @herdiniaprilia

a note from the Editor Hello!

Welcome to the second issue of Strawberry Zine!

Thank you for being here. Whether you submitted work or are here as a reader, your presence is always welcome.

I hope this issue brings you a dose of comfort and possibly some inspiration for unconventional antidotes, to remedy whatever life throws our way.

All my love, Maya Barter

Contents mycelium kisses & elder season sonnet (sorry for blocking you on spotify) Rose Beardmore Four Little Steps N.A. Kimber 25 Valentia Khumalo sober Anna Frances Tender Wounds & Numb the nerves Chris Mardiroussian Coming Home mazapán dust Ashes to Stardust Vi let

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Contents PUDDLE & MOVING THROUGH Devon Webb Help!

Athirahkrj The Artblock Kayleigh Merchant Nature is the greatest antidote D A Angelo You are your only solution RRS HOW TO GET OVER A GUY IN 180 HEARTBEATS & THE APOLOGY Devon Webb

mycelium kisses Rose Beardmore (she/they) @rosejbea it was me, i was the killer! and i thought i was like a mushroom sending smoke signals through the ground and poisoning the eater so it wasn’t my fault— being eaten! i thought that’s the real killer. i thought that i do not eat and all i do is talk to pass the time and grow! up to the sky. so it’s not my fault, it can’t be.

i am crying out in the nursery and i am too old! too old! i was never a fungus and someone washed the birth off me before i could do it myself, mother i am too alone and nobody can hear me. if i can’t be a fungus let me be a virus at least— i don’t want to hurt i just want to be inside of someone and if sickness is the only way i know how to communicate then at least i know something.

elder season sonnet (sorry for blocking you on spotify) Rose Beardmore (she/they) @rosejbea i’m soft-selling you on the space between— closing it, to be exact. i wasn’t a worthy herald of spring at nineteen, but i know things now that winter doesn’t. rivers can run, waters can warm, and we can translate complications left unsaid. let’s say it honestly over our tea— grey and steaming; our words naked, unwed. let’s gather in daylight; i will confess the secrets i coyly hid and borrowed from you ages ago, massage and press the truth into your back, as you are owed. the distance dies, the mornings rise, and you are here as ever: summer sold anew.

Four Little Steps N.A. Kimber (she/her) @nahydekimber My antidote for a broken heart is made through four little steps, not quite easy, but I know they do the trick.

The first is to forgive, whatever you might be sorry for.

Forgive yourself for vulnerability, for selfishness, for closing an open door.

Forgive the Universe for the time that has gone by.

Forgive Death for taking love at the time it was set to die.

The next is to read; I prefer poetry myself.

Read until you find those words to echo your same soul, and learn, that while each heart break is unique, the pain is universal, ancient, and true.

Read so you may connect with souls that hurt like you.

The next is to write.

Again, poetry is my choice, but pick up your pen, that furious weapon, and turn the pain into something new.

Dry up the bleeding heart, use the red as ink, mark up the pages with scattered thoughts; an exorcism of your grief.

And the last step is the most important, though it is the hardest to do.

The next step is to open your heart again, let the love come through.

This does not mean romance; it does not mean sex.

It means not closing up your heart and laying it to rest.

Broken hearts make beautiful words, but they have so much more to do.

You must find it in your heart to love again, and you should start by loving you.

25 Valentia Khumalo (she/her) @the_human_vegetable I keep thinking about it, I really do, the moment it ends, The moment it began, the moments in between.

I really got the conciliation prize.

And I couldn’t help thinking I gave it my best shot.

I guess that’s life.

It’s the endless terrain of marginal mistakes.

I find solace in the quiet, out of sight, out of mind, I can’t keep taking two steps back.

I’m finding it hard to sleep without dreaming, I’m always awkwardly speaking, About you.

A fever dream waking me up in a pool of sweat.

But I’ll grow up one day, I’ll be 25, and you won’t be there.

Except as a funny little anecdote to tell my family: I cut my hair, I stayed up till dark, Ate ice scream…

Until someone says: “He really left a mark.”

Then I’d snap, Empty from the lack, Turn around and scream at people who loved me back.

But that’s healing, But that’s progress, Someone burns the rooms, And break the windows… of all the houses we’ve ever been in.

Crush the memories.

See right through me.

Remind me where I begin.

One day I’ll be 25, That’s another conciliation prize.

It keeps getting better.

I think this is the moment, I count down the years and promise myself, The pain won’t last forever.

sober madeline (she/her) @magdawojtyla once in a lifetime you were mine and it was the sweetest time of life but now you re gone, just like you were yesterday it’s hard to complain, because there is not a single soul to blame but i’m still gonna think of all things we could have done as lovers to death, there’s one difference nothing could do us apart expect ourselves and high expectations we settled on a saturday night in a old irish bar we thought it was good to go through it all now i see we were wrong like the old lady who told us to keep it up because sometimes giving up it’s the best thing and walking away it’s the right thing i know goodbyes are bittersweet and that’s kind of why i’m still here

drinking this old beer thinking how to end our sweet story with a bitter ending keep telling myself it’s right and the only thing to do but who believes in that after all the shit we’ve been through i swear it ain’t my first try but probably very last now i know it’s the time so this is my goodbye not exactly how i imagined when i was looking at those stars which were telling me to stop the pain but instead i broke the glass again of my favorite bear from that old irish bar

Tender Wounds Chris Mardiroussian (he/him) @chris_mardiroussian I watched her swallow that bottle of vodka, slurring all about how her parents fought for custody her entire childhood with no idea who her father was, or is.

She dulled my senses, but in the spirit of drowning in our own sorrows, I confessed about Raven — how much I wanted that stray animal to be a butterfly for words of affirmation without the trails of tears, yet the thing that made matters worse was her plushy, putrid, crooked bosom, penciled eyebrows, and the stench of alcohol.

We were a Horror Flick looking to make screams out of scares.

Numb the nerves Chris Mardiroussian (he/him) @chris_mardiroussian I have the sweater,” she said, “stole it from his closet, took the sweater home, drowned it in my 1932 Chanel perfume, so he never forgets.”

She is a brilliant woman, I thought.

“That way,” she continued, “if he breaks up with me, he will have no choice but to see me.”

Well, I thought, I guess in order to get rid of her, I will have to burn her tender soul and scatter the ashes in the back alley of our favorite roach-infested bar so she never forgets.

Coming Home mazapán dust (they/them) @mazapandust

Ashes to Stardust

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Vi let (she/her/he/him) @cl3fleur

RECORD #139 13th August 2006 A supernova leaves behind dying stars. And if I ever have to leave, I’d like to, just as beautifully.

Having been sent away in a spaceship, I travel on the path of stars to seek answers to the unknown.

Simply for me to satisfy mankind and redeem my worth as a human.

Billions of years ago, helium, hydrogen, and waves of energy painted our radiant sun. And Mercury came; the red giant followed; mother Earth; and so forth; for Pluto was exiled from the system.

Although, out of these orbiting planets, only one can sustain life. How come we exist only on Earth?

I was compelled to seek the answers. One day, our time on Earth will end, and by then, mankind must have found a new home. Though those weren’t the exact reasons I was on this voyage, I did not leave Earth; Earth had left me.

END OF RECORD

RECORD #140 X September 2006 Loneliness is a dangerous place, but I have found solace. This voyage has made me more curious than melancholic. The unknown inspired me. I took out the canvas and pencil I requested at the start of my journey. Sketching had been a foreign hobby. After a long time, I had forgotten that I was an artist before a scientist.

In my artist days, every star painted on the canvas had to be carefully mapped. One mistake would lead to a supernova—the death of your star. Resulting in my artistic passions being tainted and replaced by science. Perhaps in this idle sea of void, everything and nothing, I will find the insight to my portrait—a sequence of repeated failures.

But today, or maybe tonight, I did not draw.

END OF RECORD

RECORD #141 X November 2006 The canvas remained empty. My hand trembled, trying to find the right spot on the canvas. I was only focused on one thing: getting the star perfectly centered. But what am I drawing? I don’t have a clue. Perhaps I’ll draw the solar system, the space or simply how I feel. The possibility is endless. I couldn’t take my eyes off the canvas.

END OF RECORD

RECORD #142 X I put all my focus on the painting, and with my careless behavior, I believe the ship has collided into the unknown. But fear not; the ship can fix itself in no time. Meanwhile, the empty canvas had been ruined with erased mistakes and sketches without a meaning.

Why is it that I yearn for art despite my success in science?

END OF RECORD

RECORD #143 X The shuttle has gone astray.

Only a single, off-centered star was drawn. And if this is the end, I hope this will reach someone: There is no definite cure to one’s problems; it is a ball of yarn that must be untied by your hands.

I was an artist before a scientist—a failure of both.

END OF RECORD

PUDDLE Devon Webb (she/her) @devonwebbnz I don’t know why I’m crying, blame Pisces Season actually that’s just a thing I say to divert the reason I know the reason I’m crying cos I’m lonely I’m crying cos I keep losing things I’m crying cos I feel like a burden & I don’t know where to turn I’m crying cos I’m hurting & it takes so long to heal I’m crying cos I don’t know anymore what parts of my life are real I’m crying cos all I wanted was peace & I got chaos instead I’m crying cos I try finding my place & just keep getting rejected I’m crying cos I miss you I’m crying cos it was cruel of the world to give me just a glimpse of this dream I’ve been dreaming for a while if only I was back there in your arms & you weren’t afraid of my feelings oh what a perfect release that would be please, let me be a puddle I’d look poetic in your hands something beautiful in all this fluid all this formlessness let me run through your fingers & onto the floor where you’d lie down beside me so I’m not the only horizontal thing I’ve been breaking for a while now baby let me bleed isn’t the release just another kind of healing?

MOVING THROUGH Devon Webb (she/her) @devonwebbnz I keep acting like the trauma has passed & I know how to exist in my body the trauma is something I cannot pass only move through like a long, twisting tunnel that gets slowly but consistently brighter as I peel the darkness from the walls & wrap it around my softest parts for protection the trauma has a vocabulary I reclaim like calling myself slut in a joking // empowered way for the first time in two years like intimacy doesn’t have to be performative like my body is a home is a hearth still burning like it is something I can tend, something I can keep warm like they can talk about my sex life behind my back & I can just leave like making so many mistakes means I can stop making them like my body can be vessel can be subject of poetry without being on cruel display like I can kiss & not drown undress & not untether give & not lose like my sexuality was a power I kept having to surrender instead of use I am small broken rebuilding I am lost seeking finding like home has ugly footprints in it so I’ll do the vacuum cleaning like I’ve got a mouth full of names I never wanted to say so I’ll spit instead of swallow like I am slow to love again (physically speaking, I am not slow to love) so I fold myself into gentle corners & wait for hands that touch me soft & tender & bring healing instead of pain.

Help!

Athirahkrj (she/her) @athirahkrj Drained My energy flushed out like a heavy rain.

I can’t seem to keep myself sane.

Nothing has gotten me entertained.

Painting was my escape.

Writing has always been a getaway.

But why does nothing seem exciting today?

Would you please come here and save me? because I don’t want this feeling to stay.

Head’s full, Mentally blocked.

Overwhelming ride, I’m riding it now, Every emotion gathers around, Feeling happy, Feeling blue, God! I’m so confused on what to do.

So help me Please help me.

Don’t let my body decay.

From this feeling of taedium vitae.

The Artblock Kayleigh Merchant (she/her) @kayleighmerchantpoet Fixing artist block is no easy task Why? - You ask!

You sit and wonder while pencil hits paper Dot to dot with the ink you number, Paint brush, crayons even the pen highlighter You can always paint to music, using synesthesia methods, The sky may be the limit, but your mind unlimited, Think about it for a second, Break boxes and build a block Untick, think outside of it, Don't define the lines You will find... your mind is both the creator and observer of all art blockages, Only you hold the power to unblock it.

Nature is the greatest antidote D A Angelo (he/him)

Breathe deep among pines taller than apartment blocks.

Observe halos of bird nests, wild mushrooms showing off their freckles. A beard of honey bees on a tree. Breathe. Breathe so clear and deep you are mirroring the stream underneath your feet.

Open your eyes to the rainbow trout making the water shimmer; fear not the pike prowling in the reeds.

Tread carefully on this canvas, let the imagery paint itself and your fingers stitch the words like a line of golden thread onto the page. Perhaps you’ll wake refreshed and smile, observing a fawn leaping off the page to graze on your bedroom carpet. This is its gift just for you.

You are your only solution RRS (she/her) @my_page_my_posts

We often feel bored at one point or the other. Boredom is a tedious and perplexed feeling. It keeps a person in a bemused state. One doesn’t know what to do in order to kill time. Nothing interests the person at that moment. Even the favourite things which they consider to do makes them to set those aside for a while. But there are ways which the person could escape this horrifying period, one has to be themselves and question about the intrusion of disturbing thoughts that is resulting them to be in this situation. Questioning ourselves could only make us find answers that act as a cure. The moment makes us angry, petrified, anxious and could lead to overthinking.

One has to learn how to control these feelings. If there’s no control on our thoughts, then nothing else could work in stopping them. One has to remember that mind is a powerful tool that could act accordingly and the total control is in our hands. If once the control slips from our hands, then it’s hard to gain the power back as we would now be under its dominance. The hardness is determined based on the time we take tohave it back. Don’t try to let your mind slip away. It is very easy for our mind to escape but it's very hard to retrieve the usual position of it.

That’s how powerful our mind is. If you stop making the thoughts win, only then you could find peace in all the things. The second way is, the consideration of how much you are wasting time. Weall know that once the time gets wasted, it never comes back. This boredom consumes most of the time unknowingly. We fall under a trap thinking that there’s plenty of time ahead but that thinking itself amounts to a chance or could be said as an opportunity that our mind takes to escape in near future. If you do not want to let it happen, you have to get hold of yourself. In order to be more precise, mind is just likeair in a balloon. It will always be ready to burst, all it needs is a pressure from the outside. If there’s a minute hole that is pierced into it, then in no time that air escapes through it. In the same way, if you let any disturbing thought inside, then our mindconsiders it as weapon to defeat us. One should always be aware of this, it might be hard taking control but once you become aware of how to. Then, there won’t beanother chance for the mind to battle with you. These are just some tricks to follow, there is no need of any study or practice and there’s no need to depend on others at situations like these. To conclude, the cure for your boredom is only ‘You’. You, yourself is the answer.

HOW TO GET OVER A GUY IN 180 HEARTBEATS Devon Webb (she/her) @devonwebbnz If I took back a heartbeat for every day my heart beat for you I guess it would just stop & I would be dead instead of living in this detrimental state of it breaking again & again it is painful yes but better to be alive than the opposite better everything hurts than feeling nothing at all if I took back a heartbeat for every day my heart beat for you would I even have a heart at all or would it have unspooled all empty & formless just a big zilch zilch zilch coming out my mouth & landing at my feet like empty receipt paper would I rather pay the bills would I rather be bankrupt in love at the WINZ office of romantic neglect like I am seeking um I am seeking repeating patterns that exhaust me

you exhaust me!

I am the single mother of our chemistry! all the heartbeats like little babies screaming for Daddy bitch I wish I was screaming for Daddy but not like this when you can’t hear me were you ever listening my heart beat beat beating itself up girl why love a fool girl you are too good maybe you heard that part which is why you won’t cough up your end of the deal baby it’s been six months &you’re expensive 180 heartbeats & I’m deep in debt how to pay off a generosity of spirit?

I am so tired of giving it all & getting back nothing but if I made this heart stop beating would I be able to keep on breathing?

THE APOLOGY Devon Webb (she/her) @devonwebbnz You apologise to me which is nice, cos now I don’t have to waste my time feeling pity for you you know I was thinking like what a shame to lose your friends but I applaud you on your gracious courtesy on your self-awareness which I know was always there the irony was just burying you alive till it wasn’t ironic anymore just kinda toxic like your big quest to challenge all the things wrong with society ate away at all things right till the goodness bothered you as much as the bad & you remember, you remember it now how I apologised two years ago & several times since as we both made peace with our own history my outspoken delusion, your repressed discomfort & fear we are here now & I feel new & glittery, do you?

Time does funny things to people as we evolve my voice gains understanding yours comes crawling out from where it was hiding down your throat & it’s a good thing to stand up for yourself just don’t bring the world down only the oppressive systems in place that have wounded us all because I’m sick of this left right dichotomy I’m sick of boys demonising vulnerability like being empathetic & communicating our feelings somehow makes us weak no baby it makes us strong

unity is the song that’s gonna shatter the fucking silence that has us going insane in our own echo chambers empathy is the gift that makes allies out of strangers I hope you’ll never become a stranger to me I love you still just differently that other kind of love was for a boy who wasn’t real just an ideal, just a fantasy I see that now, but I don’t think this dream of a better world cured by kindness purified by hope & conscious communication as opposed to anger & impulse is a fantasy… we could be there we could make this if we all uphold it individually will you be there with me? will we meet in the green rolling utopia where capitalism & corrupt authority are just old nightmares where we don’t have to be angry & cruel where we don’t have to make others feel small because the world is good, the world is good underneath it all.

Acknowledgements Thank you to everyone who sent in submissions.

Thank you for taking the time to create and send in your work. Thank you to all our readers. Thank you all, for being part of Strawberry Zine's second issue.

Thank you to Herdini Aprilia, for creating the stunning cover art for this issue (@herdiniaprilia).

Strawberry Zine 2024

Strawberry Zine Issue Two