The White Trash of Willoughby

Jake Allen Sharp

The first day of school I punched some kid in the face

He should have known not to look at me that way

They took me to the office to call my mom and dad

Dad was back in prison and my mom was really sad

She got drunk most every day and stayed out late at night

Sold all our food stamps for Marlboro and Natty light

I took care of my brother, and tried my very best

In this room I am forced to relive my regrets

A snapshot of the life I had on Willow Street

Weeping at the smoke-stained memory

My mom, her boyfriend, my brother and me

Living as the white trash of Willoughby

I remember when I first started selling weed

Mom’s latest boyfriend had recently OD’d

Life was hard, so I grew up fast enough

One day I lost it, when mom got…

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An Open Letter to PETA

Queerly Autistic

Okay, PETA.

Let’s lay some things out on the table so that we both know where we stand.

I don’t like you. Not necessarily the seed of your message, but the ways in which you choose to share it. I don’t like that you have used everything from the objectification of women’s bodies to the shaming of fat bodies, as well as sprinkling in a little exploitation of tragedies that have happened to real people. I don’t like that such a large percentage of the companion animals in your shelters are put to sleep, for reasons which I personally believe lie with an ideology death is better for them than to live with humans. There was also that time you preemptively celebrated about a virus that made people ‘allergic’ to meat, completely overlooking the fact that some people literally have to eat meat to survive (whether due to…

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