Mas (Khristian Van Volkenburg

Mas (Khristian Van Volkenburg - Lafayette, LA)

I remember your perfect porcelain skin being kissed by the gentle rays of the sun through the drawn blinds your tiny frame seeming so delicate and dainty compared to my massive blob of a figure you said you felt pretty i said you looked celestial you snickered as if you were smart enough to not believe a word that came from my mouth you should've and you shouldnt have Its just arbitrary banter but still some part of me believes i meant it i still had not came although we had been fucking mindlessly fucking like two cats in heat for hours and i seemed insatiable you laid satisfied and exhausted rubbing my oversized flabby body worshipping me but only for that moment it seemed that everything in that room was exactly as it should have been for that one moment as it had previously countless times felt but it was only in the room and the extension of the shower that we seemed compatible every where else you seemed dodgy and me invulnerable when we were apart it seemed you didnt exist but whenever we were together it was a maelstrom of coitus and compliments it started to run me thin pondering the true nature of our relationship or lack there of When i inquired as to why we didnt do anything except have sex it was revealed that youd been dating some talentless hack some poor fool who believed that the relationship that was shared was pure serendipity that as a unit the powers of love that held you two together this masquerade of being soul mates while in the meantime using some piece of shit to stuff the vast cavern that is your vagina to get your rocks off Repulsed and enticed me simatainiously on one hand the deceit seemed off-putting your unavailability seemed over whelmingley attractive so i guess we forgave and forgot

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Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

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