"Panic Attack On The Tuesday After The Crickets Play Us Out In Chicago" by Timmy Sutton



O atrocious

heart of endless crisis,


could you chill out

for like two seconds?


I was supposed to

do laundry today,


but again that impossible parade

of small miseries banging


their drums and wailing on trumpets—

how does one shut the window


to music? Even when

they’ve heard the song


encore before? Let me

tell you a secret


you already know:

I love to listen


to an album on repeat

until I can’t fucking stand


it anymore—eventually

I never go back.


I’ll do this forever

until some day when


suddenly I won’t. Know I know

I’ve made you what you are, and I’m sorry


but that’s no excuse

for the dramatics,


especially when we can both see

I’m running out of things


to count in this room.

Maybe we can come to


an agreement

in another life—


the next one or

the next one after


I won’t be so easy

to drag along.


I’ll be a cricket in summer.

I’ll play my own song, heartless.




Timmy Sutton (he/him) is a person who writes, analyzes budgets, and misses his friends and family from Springfield, IL. Some of his stuff is in (or forthcoming from) Taco Bell Quarterly, Hooligan Magazine, Rejection Letters, and some other places you can find all of at https://linktr.ee/timmysutton if you really wanna. You can find him on Instagram and Twitter @timothy_matthan.

Related Posts

See All

"Brand new (almost)" by Hannah Stephings

I come out of the water, gleaming, panting and try to leave you far out at the sea amongst the foam and fishing boats. out on the pebbled shore, swaddled in a rough, peach towel I’m cleaner, brighter,

"Campfire" by Rachel Jung

The fire pulses with a hum like a bee’s and the fizz of rain-damp wood. Our drowsy eyes are drawn to where the flames lick– curled crescents of orange peel. Sparks, a mimicry of the stars crowning our