Hibou Magazine is a student run literary outlet designed as a way to hold intellectualism at The American university of paris accountable while also providing a platform for writers of all backgrounds to voice their comments, concerns, and pursue their artistic endeavours

 Back to Reality

Back to Reality

A hand gradually awakens from an impromptu slumber

It’s regains consciousness, the numbness dissolves as the nerves awaken with morning breath 


-Back to reality


The fingers awkwardly wiggle and needles and pins rush throughout the rejuvenated limb


A momentary trip to the ether, the hand will soon forget


***


A girl likes a boy, but he doesn’t smell flowers when he passes them by


What a shame

She craves adoration, salivating at the thought

Adoration, attention, affection, all this assonance has made her weary. 


She dreams one day he’ll treasure her


-Back to reality 


He likes flowers, but never takes time to smell them


She reminds herself that the tree lets the wind ruffle its leaves, but never holds on. Gusts are passionate yet elusive


***


The phantom spends yet another day in eternity 

Swaying the same ole rocking chair, flickering the same ole lightbulb

He knows he should move on to the next dimension

But resolution is hard, even in fated afterlife


-Back to reality


He must leave this one

He could retire his white sheet and liberate himself from the ghostly shackles


But first he must reconcile his death, 

Like reconciling that blood and cherries hold the same hue


***


An astronaut floats in the royal velvet

He is the same as the dust particle or hydrogen atom

Blissful absurdism

He hums along to major Tom, he is wistful, what a sweet song

He’s interrupted by radio static


-Back to reality


Fuzzy, choppy alien noises make English in his ears

He forgot that language even existed, or headsets, or earth, or his mom


He hastily bounds back to the ship


His soul slumps


***


They romanticize their escape, a cherished fantasy 


the hand

the girl

the phantom

the astronaut


Flit between day dreams and prickly reality

They wish vertigo upon themselves, just a couple more seconds in lush vanity


But they’re thrusted 

they’re jerked

they’re forced 

-Back to 

-Back to


***


Savory Boys Spit Out Sweet Coffee

Savory Boys Spit Out Sweet Coffee

Untitled.

Untitled.