submissions 2022

fake zine has made it to another volume. first of all, thank you to all who have contributed to this volume. thank you to those who submitted, wanted to submit but didn’t, wanted to submit but couldn’t, contributed behind the scenes, and those who will read it.

i’m so grateful that i’ve been able to build a platform, however small, where we feel comfortable enough to share our thoughts, feelings, and energy. i never would’ve thought that anyone would read or look at anything i make or write, let alone have others send me their work to place alongside mine. it means so much to me that I’ve been given the privilege to witness your art.

these types of volumes will be a regular thing. if you want to submit anything, you still can. it’ll be in the next one. thank you in advance.

- vero


by anonymous

Freedom is a bottle of wine

Sitting on the river, talking about how that one day ruined our lives

Or rather ended our previous ones

Our tears flow into a stream all too familiar with grief

We are new beings now, far away from ourselves.

Are you real? Are you there with me?

You have a name that hurts to hear

But the end demands silence and the blow fails to land

For the pain that remains, your kind, puffy cheeks remind me not to think about it too much

With every swig, our souls intertwine

This is not love, but I’m content with it

Besides, your husband wouldn’t like that

This is what I needed

I feel something growing inside of me

An echo that sours in my mouth the longer I hold it in

The only thing left to do is

Wash it down and remember the taste of second-hand cigarettes

Thank you Calypso.



peach by milo tantillo

I think I am more like

A peach than an onion.

Yes, I think there are layers to me

And my whole being.

But my layers...

They're more like a stone fruit.

My fuzzy exterior is not for everyone.

I get it.

But once you get past the fuzz,

Into my juicy lil' feelings,

I'm a treat that comes with rewards.

Be warned; if you enjoy the fruit...

Eventually you'll meet the pit.

My pit is not for everyone.

The pit shows itself in mysterious

And inconvenient ways.

The pit likes to think it's smarter than me

And my whole being.

My pit has swallowed me whole before.

The pit chokes me to sleep, some nights.

The pit walks me down the street on hot days...

My pit may change throughout my life.

Get new grooves, darken,

Soften, dry out, get bigger,

So much bigger...

But my pit's with me 'til I die.

It's ok though. When I die,

My pit will be buried.

And I can only hope that one day,

Long after I'm gone,

It bears fruit.