To break down your wallsTo break through to youis the same as trying to reach 100 summitsClimbing and crawling your sidesrocks and dirt crumbling under my weightI try to move your boulders,snap the twigs blocking my way,winds blowing in all directionsrain beating down on my backthen come the blizzards hitting my faceyou try to knock me downyou try to keep me from going upyou don’t … Continue reading To Reach 100 Summits by Cithara Patra
A girl knows what it means to sit prettysqueeze her lips tight and smile wideher face painted pinkneck drenched in perfumeshe’s your perfect little dollyour toy to show off and play withuntil you’re bored so you throw her awayand go for the next doll in your sights A girl knows how to behavekeep up the spirits in the roomwhile hers is falling to piecesshe calms … Continue reading A Girl Knows by Cithara Patra
If Christian Kracht’s debut novel, Faserland, was considered a “rip-off” of Bret Easton Ellis’ general style, Eurotrash would also like to submit itself for consideration. After all, its autofiction genre is very much in keeping with what Easton Ellis did for 2005’s Lunar Park (back when “metafiction” was the chicer word to use). And while most people associate BEE with Less Than Zero (which also, … Continue reading Christian Kracht’s Eurotrash: Another Bret Easton Ellis-Style “Romp” That Examines the Guilt of Privilege—and How That Guilt Ultimately Serves Nothing But the Status Quo
I lose a little bit of hopeevery day.It feels pretty good. Continue reading As I Get Older by Ron Riekki
Thank God it’s raining.The smokers go outsideand smoke.I wish they’d smoke in their homes.I wish they’d kill their family’s lungsinstead of mine.They smoke in front of my window.I can’t afford air conditioning.I wake up in the night,actually wake upfrom the smoke.Wake up coughing.But tonight it’s raining.They don’t smoke when it rains.Or they do,but not in front of my window.I pray for thunderevery day of my … Continue reading It’s Raining by Ron Riekki
After mowing the lawn, the garage needed a paint job. It was while painting that I discovered a mole on my forearm had turned to a shade of deep brown. I snapped a picture of it and sent it to GPT, which said I needed a topical OTC to treat skin inflammation. The second I applied it, the mole expanded, blossoming like a dahlia. I … Continue reading Must’ve Been a Hallucination by Peter Crowley
When winds surge from the west and the guts are unearthed, there is a warping of tides. The moon is decapitated and the torso’s pull emerges from the prefrontal cortex. One has achieved this pull through struggle, yet, by god, it exists. A decision has been made and coronated on a papist balcony overlooking the rabble. Decision stretches out its hand, shielding its eyes from … Continue reading Decision by Peter Crowley
A few weeks later, in the wee hours, you picture the woman of your life flung on her new lover’s DreamCloud scratching his back like a cheetah. She was your high priestess, your Holy Mother. But that ended when she stormed out—after you forgot to mention how brilliant her poem was, when you found comfort spending time on the sofa, and left muddy boot prints on the white hallway runner. … Continue reading A Split from Reality by Dale Champlin
Cotton Candy.Carny Queen.Pops AnotherKetamine.DreamsAbout TheSilver Screen.Gets InsideThe Limousine.Jimmy Dean.Dopamine.Cotton Candy’sTunnel Of Love.CostsTwo Tickets.Rubber Glove.Rubber Boat.Root Beer Float.Maidenhead. Sugar Coat. Gently GentlyDown The Stream.Cotton Candy.Carny Queen.Count Your Blessings.Count The Take.Silver Dollar.Coffee Break.Cotton Candy.Carny Queen.Hear The LionsRoar And Scream. Continue reading Cotton Candy’s Tunnel of Love by Charlie Robert
Time yawns over the exhausted linen,at best a tiresomeacquaintance. An ersatz luxury,specious sensuality,the palm of the dayopens to you. The suggestion isspace is too grandfor error. But Doubt seizes you by the crotch. Sunday equals Monday with matching moods of pianissimoair. Repeating, reciprocating tasksecho. The charge of bright thought falters at the turn. Emerald theories provedust-worthy. One wants an islandlarge enough to think. Continue reading Plenty by William Ray
