HAPPY SAD BAD a little poetry zine by sarah rose
ISSUE#01
all content within is written/illustrated(in mspaint)/photographed (on iphone) by sarah rose select works also found elsewhere (purplepiglit, suny purchase submission magazine)
CONTENTS
INTRO 1
CRAM SESSION 2
TO LEARN THE VALUE OF A SAND DOLLAR
4
BITTERSWEET 6 HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 8 CONTROLLED SUBSTANCES 10
WILDLIFE GUNNING 13
THINKING ABOUT MY HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART
WHILE CRYING IN A REALLY REALLY DIRTY PUBLIC
BATHROOM SOMEWHERE IN THE CHINESE COUNTRYSIDE
15
ABOUT 16
???
poems about teacher crushes, self-indulgent post-breakup whining, self-discovery, and cake written mostly during sophomore year of college @ SUNY Purchase .
CRAM SESSION the only man i ever loved was my sociology teacher in 12th grade and also my science teacher from 8th and my history teacher from 9th and my chemistry teacher from 10th i only pass my classes when i fall asleep dreaming about strong jaws hanging under big pink brains with connected eyeballs radiating pride and concern “you are so talented so talented so talented” validate me with a 103 on the test no one studied for i didn’t either but i wrote the formulas on my thighs and wore a skirt if you caught me you would have had to look if you didn’t you would be proud pass/fail win/win
BEARD
I want to eat cotton candy u n t i l m y t e e t h c r u m b l e a n d f a l l o u t o f m y h e a d l i ke t i ny g r a i n s o f table sugar l e av i n g l i t t l e h a l f m e l t e d s u g a r c u b e s s t i c k i n g o u t o f m y b u b b l e g u m p i n k g u m s w h e n ev e r i s m i l e s w e e t l y, d u m b l y at you. D o I t a s t e l i ke c a n d y ? W i l l y o u s h a r e m e w i t h f r i e n d s? I want you to eat it outside in the sun and let it melt. Let me bite your hands and up your arms to your neck and lick the corners of your mouth where the sugar sticks. D o y o u l i ke p i n k o r b l u e? M ay b e I w i l l b e a h a p py s hy s w e e t g i r l t o d ay. I w i l l h o l d m y c o t t o n c a n d y i n f r o n t o f m y f a c e w h e n y o u w a l k by a n d y o u w i l l o n l y t h i n k “ o h , t h a t l o o k s g o o d e n o u g h t o e a t �.
TO LEARN THE VALUE OF A SAND DOLLAR I met a baby eel once in a past life, or at least one is my spirit animal now. I must have been nice. So I travel to an aquarium, two times a week, Thursdays and Sundays. I worship at its altar, which is hidden under the sink in the men’s bathroom (don’t tell anyone). These communications are ceremonious. Afterwards they hum inside of me. Today I made the trip again and I faced the white porcelain
underbelly, palms up, head down. But as I went to speak, I choked and vomited a river of sea foam and small shells, beautiful blues greens and pinks. Tears streamed out from my eyes. I had received a divine transmission. As I walked back to the parking garage, I shook and felt profound. The ocean was crusted on my lips. After seeing so much water and spirit, I finally knew myself well. I am a baby eel living in a little salt water inside tupperware on someones countertop. It’s always evaporating always.
BITTERSWEET rum in chocolate milkshakes a dog choking on a treat
one eyed stuffed animal in donation bin a lot of mayonnaise hitting the blunt too hard a text back during a funeral gum chewed by an ex the bell ringing before detention burnt brown butter in a cake or really anything if you’ve got the right mindset
DO YOU FUCK WITH THEM? A girl gang, elementary bullies – magic markers, baseball bats, crayons, knives, play dough, Don’t go near the tire swing during recess. Can you make a shiv with a broken pencil sharpener’s razor and a colored pencil? The leader holds down a lone boy near the urinal while two others block the entrance. Red curls fall in front of her face as she kneels on scabby knees without wincing. “If you don’t stop tattling...” Bits of toilet paper stick to his tear soaked cheeks. A long string of spit emerges from her mouth and hovers over him like a spider. “Open your mouth,” The principal is crooked. Sometimes he goes to the nurse’s office for a long, long time when he isn’t even sick at all. Is a warhead candy and a pack of pop rocks enough to make a bomb? He cries and writhes around, sneakers squeaking on the tiles. The giggling sounds like a flock of tiny carnivorous birds. “Did he taste it? Did he? Did he taste it yet?” hik-hik-hik-hik “I think a teacher’s coming,” His snot dribbles down towards his chin. Rumor has it, Jessa, Becky, Hannah, Kelsie and Sam knock 1st graders teeth out and put them under their own pillows as a side business. Can you beat someone to death with a mitten full of sidewalk chalk? A girl in black mary-janes kicks him once in the stomach before they all skip out of the bathroom. Aiden is left wondering what exactly will happen if he tattles.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
I keep baking cakes for beautiful boys, I make them for their birthdays and holidays and sad days elaborate fucking cakes with rosettes and crème frosting chocolate for sadness vanilla for no reason at all. Mostly they sit on their doorsteps. Sometimes animals come out and eat them at night. This makes me very mad. It leads to poison cakes and lots of fat dead raccoons. There was one boy who ate every cake I made which excited me and made me shiver as I mixed flour, sugar, eggs, butter, water, oil, vanilla extract but he never kissed me up until the day he threw up his 26th cake – it was right before that when he finally put his fork down long enough to lean in. I tasted his vomit before it happened but I didn’t stop until he did because I love cake and I love boys. A syrupy substance kind of like a rainbow of melted m&ms and milk splattered our shoes. I might make strawberry cake next.
A Beautiful Cake SUNY Purchase 2014
CONTROLLED SUBSTANCES
i was diagnosed as clinically depressed last month this means i can do anything i want but the catch is i don't want to do anything i've been spending a lot of time in my apartment accumulating old containers of halal food and coke cans my roommate is talking to his girlfriend in the kitchen so i am staying here google search 'how long wear same clothes rash' followed by 'death by sun deprivation' apparently children in a cult in russia lived underground and never saw the sun up until they were discovered -- sounds good. i tweet something depressing and take a nap in the haze of pre-sleep i am imagining the room filling with lava from the space under the door and the crack in the window my own giggling wakes me up a text from my ex girlfriend reads:
“hey are you ok?”
begrudgingly i agree to meet for coffee i drink three red bulls and she has a latte but i don't feel embarrassed she fixates on me with aggressive concern
“have you been eating?”
i am overly aware of my own facial movements
“yes”
my nose twitches slightly she places her hand over mine and traces my knuckles deliberately she is paler than i am
later we are in my room but i am not embarrassed by it we are kissing she tells me i’m too pretty to be depressed and takes her top off i didn’t ask for this i avert my gaze but i don’t know why maybe to be polite, maybe to escape her aggressive brand of consolation i sit back on the bed sort of turned on by her plain white bra the list of reasons not to fuck her has erased itself my sheets haven’t been washed in 6 months her deodorant smells like patchouli and jasmine “you used to hate being on top” “don’t look up at me, it’s a bad angle” after she looks at me and smiles a smile that maybe means something to her i feel like throwing up from all the red bull i roll over and take some pills that are on my nightstand hoping one is actual medicine she leaves i fall asleep my dreams are filled with more lava and gasoline and a girl in a bikini masturbating later she texts : “feeling any better?” “no not really”
a very literal picture
A Cherry Stem 2013
WILDLIFE GUNNING Once I gave a man a perfumed letter but after reading it, he wasn’t full; he looked at me, “mmmm,” bared wooden teeth, took out his shotgun and didn’t fuck off; instead he told me he wanted to shoot all the sand in a desert pow – into the sky with me! so I put my boots on greased my face and got a big dog then we killed everything that there was available to kill. Slaughtered. cacti scream.
Great Wall Beijing, China 2012
THINKING ABOUT MY HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART WHILE CRYING IN A REALLY REALLY DIRTY PUBLIC BATHROOM SOMEWHERE IN THE CHINESE COUNTRYSIDE The old adage goes “to get over someone, get under someone”, I did it one better. You left me and to escape you, I went 12 hours into the future and stayed there for two weeks. The plane ride felt noteworthy, I would conquer one fear at a time. The Chinese air choked me as soon as we landed. I ran up the Great Wall expecting a post-break up revelation that would be lit as “empowering” by Cosmo featuring me with my fannypack and sweaty forehead, tag-lined “She Lost Love But Found Herself-- in Beijing!” but every uneven step reminded me of fucking up. I saw stray dogs on the street with messy teeth and big hearts, and I felt too close to them in a sad, transcendental way. We could trade places and no one would know because you could be damn sure that dog would text you internationally even at 75 cents per 120 characters. During nights, I wandered through street vendors selling LED rockets, cigarette holders and paper hats to little boys. The rockets littered the sky like green meteors. I made a wish on one before it broke on the sidewalk.
I don’t want posters of Mao, I don’t want any more tea, I don’t want the bus to fall off the side of the mountain. It took me two weeks to realize I could go places without your help, and it takes more than going to the opposite side of the world to get over someone.
ABOUT
20 / f / ny sarahrrrosew@gmail.com sarekedicik.tumblr.com