Looking away was a breath of fresh air. A breath like the first after drowning, or after a passionate strangling by a pair of cold and dormant hands. Hands they’d rather not recall.… Continue Reading
I think that a lot of what I am, what I’ve always been, is inherently dirty, so I indulge the sickest parts of myself all at once, thinking that I’ll get so nauseous and so done with being me that they will leave my system in one fell swoop.… Continue Reading
I say we can burn some incense, scatter something on water, bang a drum, make an incantation, what in your opinion will be an act that is life affirming? You say I think there’s a Harley-Davidson dealership around here.… Continue Reading
Everyone on my new planet grows from what resembles a cactus flower. They bud and sprout. They unfold and then they begin the business of being loved and loving back. They cry when I tell them about money.… Continue Reading
The bookshelf, crowded with urns full of past cats’ ashes: Ajax, Echo, Luna, and Midnights 1 through 3. The Papillon in my lap licking my bloody knuckles. The hole I punched in the wall next to the TV after watching the evening news.… Continue Reading
He doesn’t tell them that tomorrow is a hole so deep it cannot be measured. He doesn’t mention how he beats his his chest to try to excise the grief that sits there so stubbornly. He doesn’t because he is tired of the gooey treacle of sympathetic smiles.… Continue Reading
Trauma doesn’t skip generations, it just changes clothes—passed down like the red velvet cake recipe, sweetened to survive.… Continue Reading
The police said his feet got tangled in seaweed. He was drunk and they said it was probably peaceful, something I never believed. I’m sure the water sobered him up and he fought to the end, just like he did any time people called me a freakazoid.… Continue Reading
I didn’t want to talk to Harvey about stars. I wanted to ask him, Have you ever kissed someone who didn’t contain 99.9 percent of your DNA?… Continue Reading
and now it was 1997 and john gambler sits on the number 63 w/his headphones on listening to jane’s addiction, thinking that ghosts don’t just haunt the corridors and staircases of old broken down houses. sum ghosts come to the derelict hearts a the living… Continue Reading