LOUP
L
oup
magazine was created as a creative_____ outlet for me and my friends. A way to have complete_____ freedom_____ over how and what goes in to the magazine. I recruited friends, and friends of friends to compile this magazine and it is nothing less than a work of ART.YYYY LOUPKRONE MAGAZINE is an animal____. It is unpredictable, untamed, uncut, AND exactly as the artist____ wants it. LOUPKRONE MAGAZINE would not be possible without the efforts and support of many people. i would like to THANK____ p.a., SAMUEL MAYA, & P.K. especially. if you would like to submit to LOUPKRONE MAGAZINE please email ((slfloup@gmail.com)). we accept all forms of writing_____ and ARTwork_____.
T O C able
f
ontents
ESCAPE- ALVARO BAEZ ART- HANNAH RITCHTER ANTICIPATION LOST- CAROLENA ALBERT ART- BRITTNEY JOHNSON A SPECULATION ON LOVE AND IT’S CONNOTATIONS- HANNAH RITCHER NAZI- TYLER ROBERTS ART- CHAMILA VILA STREAM OF CONSCIENCE- GERARD ALBERT ART- HANNAH RITCHTER ASH- SCOTT MURPHY ART- GERARD ALBERT
E
scape
Alvaro Baez
Suicide, drugs, and alcohol are the three plagues of today romanticized by media And made to be glorified objects, common folks must adore and worship Although each are completely different They are all the same, An escape The only true cure for the illness known as reality Though each is a sin It is one looked favorably by the church For without sin there is no church And without the church there is no sin, Only acts Some may take more effort than others but each in a perfect state of neutrality And neutrality is only reached at death So without sin there is no church But in the absence of sin there is no man
A
nticipation lost
Carolena Albert
I feel like I have said everything I could about you, to you. even after we were over, I went on about how you made me crazy and how you still do. you wore my favorite shirt that day. you knew it would drive me wild. maybe you thought it’d be the only thing- the only way to save us from the hole you dug that I had finally sunken into. it felt like the first time all over again. the day I never thought would arrive. the day it all ended. I was shaking with the excitement of being able to feel you again. yes, I could talk to you and touch you and wrap myself in the wonderful sensations. little did I know the fire was fading, flickering. and every time I held you, I got burned- scorched with such a passion. Put your hand on my heart. It’s what you do to me. I knew something wasn’t right. I felt it when you leaned into me. as you walked away, the world around me crumbled. it’s almost as if I knew where it was going. my worst fear. It was over. You were gone. & there was absolutely nothing I could’ve done to stop you.
A S O L A I C
peculation
n
ove
nd
t’s
H
annah
onnotations
R
itchter
I stare inquisitively up at the contours of your chin in the irritated reticence which follows your breathy proclamation I love you said with about as much passion as the mayonnaise has gone bad or I think I’ll be needing an umbrella today I’m not quite sure if I should laugh or if this is one of those times where hilarity is offensive I know I shouldn’t be comparing this to an open casket but the image is there anyway your attentive eyes swing downward, weightily almost exhausted as if the top of my head vexed you I should have done something profound I should have pulled you off the couch and let your hips unfold against mine while Frank Sinatra played on until we were all curves and vertigo instead I shift my left leg away from your knee and fear that this kind of expired condiment love is the best it gets so I say I love you too but what I really said was I forgot to walk the dog and please use coasters, it’s mahogany
N
azi
Tyler Roberts
Screams, explosions, gunshots, they are coming, I can hear them breaking down the doors, I stare into her eyes tell her to be strong, One movement of her jaw and she’s gone, Her lifeless body falls to the floor like a rag doll, it’s my turn. I close my eyes and drift back into my head, What does my life amount to, Have I done the right thing, Will the war continue without me, Will I walk through the ebony gates, All of my theological beliefs are brought into question. I feel the cold steel press against my head, A single tear rolls down my cheek, It is over.
S
tream of conscience
Gerard Albert
Now the sun has came and went All my money has been spent all my energy My sweat could fill a bucket. Your pigtails still bounce in front of me and your freckles are still dots I can connect like stars. I can crack your code I am your enemy and you let me in I can break you unless I self destruct first. We’ve done this before lets skip the charades scrape the icing off and get straight to the cake. Dont wrap my presents I want my gift in the spots on your face in the tears running down your cheeks in the paint on your nails that is chipping off from the constant biting. In YOU
A
sh
Scott Murphy
That bonfire burned, and with it was the dead and our memories and everything you’ve ever loved, and everything I’ve ever hated. Remorse is gone. Regrets evicted. The ritual brought a vague sense of ecstasy, one that tends to associate itself with acts of passion, for that’s exactly what this is. The flame burns gold, and the smoke runs white. Books caught fire, and pictures immolated. Ink blurring with ash. Memories blurring with ash. We celebrated around the bonfire, my friends and I. We celebrated about this death. We celebrated about this end. I know your ghost will haunt me, and I know your memories will leak back into my head and erupt. I know that sleep will escape me when I need it most, and I know that your ghost may live in the wall and crawl in my head every goddamned night. For now, I banish your existence from my memories. Let them shrivel and burn in this conglomerate of scorched wood and ashen air. Our lungs collapsing with ash. My life collapsing with ash.
I
ssue two