Categories
ADHD Poetry

Attention Deficit by Gianni Gaudino


The amount of money saved. Scrawling everywhere. Green red, red green. A loose evening, becomes looser, restlessly restless. In the dream, you’re running. No, in the dream, you’re sitting. The river on your lap. A tortoise is hunted by a rabbit. How many ways can you look without looking? How often can you count, then backwards? Hypochondriac or cursed curious? You’ve sewn a moon into a blanket. It’s never finished. You give it cheeks, a clown nose. You, class clown, sit in the principal’s office. He tells you to stop touching his paper clips, the leather chair. You ask Do you need your bicycle tuned up? Principal slams his desk, stands to look out his window. In the sky, a cloud shaped like a rabbit drops to the ground. The principal asks When you grow up, what do you want to be? Outside, the cloud’s breath steams the window. Put down my stapler, my rubber bands. Are they yours to touch? Can’t you just sit there? Can you do that, huh? Sit there and just listen?

Gianni Gaudino teaches 8th grade English and Language Arts in the School District of Philadelphia. When he was 6, Gianni was diagnosed with ADHD and a minor form of Tourette’s Syndrome. He has poems in ProLit MagazineYes, PoetryMuzzle Magazine, and a few others. He lives in Philadelphia.  

Categories
ADHD Anxiety Prose

Leaving the Apartment by Jane-Rebecca Cannarella

Leaving the apartment is both a recipe and a spell. Ingredients in a certain order set in threes to unlock the doors that lead to the front stoop. Three cats to find. Three items I need before I go. Three doors to lock and unlock and re-lock in threes to guarantee the cooking incantation of leaving’s labor holds. Half-finished spells are spoiled milk and the number of rideshares that have come and gone while I re-work in threes maps the city in miles lost. Inside. Outside. Inside. A magic wand finger swipe to re-order Uber. Re-find the three cats. Hold my face to their faces and tell them I love them three times. My hand on the doorknobs advancing one twist after the other to complete the cooking spell of loss that comes with leaving. At each door, I say the final words to complete the magic meal of going into the world. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

Jane-Rebecca Cannarella is a writer and editor living in Philadelphia. She is the editor of HOOT Review and Meow Meow Pow Pow Lit, as well as the author of Better Bones and Marrow, both published by Thirty West Publishing House, and The Guessing Game published by BA Press. She occasionally drinks wine out of a mug that has a smug poodle on it; she believes that the poodle is the reincarnated spirit of the television show Parker Lewis Can’t Lose.

Categories
ADHD Poetry

little fishies go swimming in my head by Syl Xing

little fishies little fishies swimming in my head/bite at my nerves and make my eyes go red/ little fishy little fishy nipping at my skull/ the water’s sloshing in and out but I’m just waiting for a lull/ little molly little guppy don’t eat that card/ just sit and watch all the data crumbling into shards/ film colours blurring bright, spread like poison bitter/ every SIM card I try to catch dissolves like glitter/ little fishy little fishy please make the call/ for now you’ve eaten my memories and there’s nothing left at all!

Syl Author Photo

Syl (they/them) is an aromantic writer with ADHD living in Singapore. A fan of fantasy and speculative fiction, they can often be found badgering their friends about social issues, politics, and their latest writing ideas. They have previously been published in the 11th issue of the Cauldron Anthology and are very fond of coffee.