Bri Griffith
Pittsburgh, PA, USA
@brigriffith
ISSUE 1
Nightmare Fuel
I can’t remember the in-betweens.
Someone took books off the shelf
and didn’t give them back.
I’m in chemistry class converting units—
I’m on the treadmill—
I’m bleeding out
on the balcony why
do I always die on the balcony
why do I always die lying next to
a broken boom box spitting static?
My brother is hiding in the basement bathroom
and my stomach folds over
as I slip
down the stairs, nearly out
of my skin
and sit outside the door, and I hear him
dry heaving, saying,
I’m done—done—I’m fucking done—
and I see his white t-shirt
through the crack,
and I just want to pull him
out
of the bathroom, say,
It’s okay. It’s okay.