Kelly Mullins is an unpublished American writer living in Amsterdam. She works in the tech industry and someday hopes to ditch the algorithms for full-time poetry writing.
New York forever
I was the type of person
To whom everything
Seemed obvious
He said
From the side of his bed
As I sat flattered
In hindsight
The whole thing
Obviously wasn’t obvious
To me trying to blend in
In all black
To the New York backdrop
With young red lips
Afraid to order
Foreign red wines
Stood out against white walls
In the temporary TriBeCa studio
Of the thirty-something tech exec
Who totally had his life together
Tried to act in the know
When he set the mood
With “Spotify”
A new thing on which to play
His musical musings
Or when he ordered
To get rid of me
An “Uber”
The black chariot of pride and shame
I´d come to know well
New things were his thing
Apps, companies, interns
And I remember the inside
Of that apartment
But not much else
The lush glass lobby
Lights from other buildings
Blinking through the blinds
Hanging over the toilet
Swishing Listerine
Coughing on the knockoff
Eames
Dried out so badly
From my first joint
That when he kissed me I
Disintegrated but stayed
Woke up wrapped in white sheets
With too expensive whiskey
Evaporating into me inhibiting
My ability to speak for myself
Missed my shift at the shitty retail job
Told no one of my whereabouts
For years thought
I was special enough
To skirt my own rules
Only now knowing
From across the Hudson
And over the Atlantic
In the glaring lights
Of my own
White walled apartment
Which of those rules
Obviously
Weren’t written by me
Behavior, Impact, Options
I had stayed up all night
Rehearsing every word for you
Trying to prevent the possibility
Of being overtaken by my soliloquy
In the moment
So I could let go of you
Like a stray balloon
And when the time came,
(At a Starbucks of all places)
I was enraged that you
Had delivered me
A monologue too
Pop Astrology
My horoscope says
I cannot stay home and hope the love of my life will knock on my door
My horoscope says
I am threatened by emotions because I cannot control or rationalize them
My horoscope says
You hate me
My horoscope says
My happiness is tied to my freedom
My horoscope says
The older I get, the younger I’ll feel
My horoscope says
I need a partner who’s able to accept my intensity
My horoscope says
Not to charge my crystals under the full moon
My horoscope says
What I need from a relationship is often at odds with the type of person I’m drawn to
My horoscope says
Foreign men are stimulating in a slightly provocative way to me
My astrologer says
When I’m eighty, I’ll still wonder if you were a prince or if you were a frog
My tarot reader says
I will rule the kingdom alone and you will come back to test me
My gynecologist says
The HPV will eventually go away
My parents say
I worry too much
My friends say
I’m the most self-assured person they know
My therapist says
Just kidding, I don’t have a therapist
From the Editor:
We hope that readers receive In Parentheses as a medium through which the evolution of human thought can be appreciated, nurtured and precipitated. It will present a dynamo of artistic expression, journalism, informal analysis of our daily world, entertainment of ideas considered lofty and criticism of today’s popular culture. The featured content does not follow any specific ideology except for that of intellectual expansion of the masses.
Founded in late 2011, In Parentheses prides itself upon analysis of the current condition of intelligence in the minds of these young people, and building a hypothesis for one looming question: what comes after Post-Modernism?
The idea for this magazine stems from a simple conversation regarding the aforementioned question, which drew out the need to identify our generation’s place in literary history.
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By In Parentheses in IP Volume 7
32 pages, published 1/15/2022
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