Caitlin Looney, a 19-year-old messy freak-out of a girl, does artistic things, but is not an artist. After quitting art school with only one semester under her belt (even though she does not wear belts), Caitlin decided that if she were to not be anything, she would not be an “artist”. However, her creative endeavors say otherwise. She writes, she draws, she paints, she photographs, she acts, but she does not art. 

why i left (February 20, 2011. Issue 25.)

she knows what the ruffles in her dresses remind you of
and she knows that light just gives the illusion of travel
we create singular, silent entities with each individual bulb

and her glasses of water pile up, bedside
the world becomes stale within crystal liquid
she pulls loose strands of hair away from her sticky lips
her mouth is red and white, painted by a child

clouds crowd a shoreline so familiar
it is etched as the horizon in her mind
and she liked the strangeness of the company she kept
but it was the rotten way their eyes rolled
into the back of their heads
that drove her away

she knows that scar tissue is a laughing matter
and she knows what it is that keeps the edges of her vision rough
and she can stack the books as high as they will go
but you're still heading down that road alone

sometimes your hands are worth holding