There’s the smoke of my cigarette, and the image of your widening smile as my hands unbutton your shirt. There’s the smell of my boozy breath and the glisten of your lips as my fingers fiddle and play until you’re right where I want you. There are the memories of several hundred nights where I… Read more

  Through the woods and through the seas, I walked and swam lost to the world and everyone in it, and then there came a day when I put pen to paper, and lost I was no more. There was a time when I kept myself locked up and boarded shut, but the more I… Read more

  There are certain ‘happenings’ that have kept with me after all these years. Certain feelings and attachments to past events I play over in my head time and time again. I eat those days, and they have become me without anyone ever knowing, such is the richness of my fantasy life and the need… Read more

  In our headphones, there’s electronic music from the 80’s, and all around us, we’re surrounded by the womb of night. There are flooded streets and roads as rivers and you with your face buried deep into your coat and scarf. Your hood is up, but the wind keeps blowing it down, much to your annoyance.… Read more

  I could tell the world how beautiful you are; could put a ring on your finger and show them just how much you meant to me, but so couldn’t anyone? Such a thing once amused me, but deep down the rabbit hole, these pleasantries are as uninteresting as the lives of those who are… Read more

  When I’m tired and want to be alone, I go to a forest no one else knows to read my books and sit in silence at one with nature and all the gods that ever existed. Perfectly still with my back resting against a tree, the animals come and go telling stories about how… Read more

  The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 and a bottle of white wine after a day of writing and more writing and editing and even more writing and a walk taking in trees and hot stones that burn my hands when I pick them up while still unable to shake the permanent reminder that I am flesh and… Read more

  When she feels the air in her lungs tighten, she grabs her crayons and draws the animals she sees in her dreams and then ladyparts and skeletons reaching up to the clouds from the dull ground below. When she drinks her wine, she feels a little easier in her skin, and sometimes, when she focuses… Read more

  In the room across from the stairs, she puts on her clothes and smiles at the memory of our act. In her arms, she has held many men but never has she held one like me. Between the sheets and between her legs, she has been looked upon with greedy eyes, but such eyes were as… Read more