Fiction

Poetry

When You Grow Up

I’d rather be a collapsed flower drenched in rainwater; succumbed to the well where wishes weld winning whims. though not alone as the barren heart

Confessional

The Kiss Was Not For You

I thought of someone else while I kissed my boyfriend. “I did that once,” I said. “Oh no you didn’t.” said Heather. She’s the girl

Poetry

Godland: Sammie Jo

Sammie Jo don’t talk much. Her mother like to cut out her tongue any time she speaks up. A bone outta socket. As big as

Poetry

Popular Experiment

  *synth beats* bright plastic blue screen green screen *auto-tune screams* chunky glasses tuned-in apathy *boy band* drive fast die young pretty corpse *twangy guitar*