The orgasm sucks her in, chews her up, and then gobs her back into the bathroom. For the merest flickers of existence, she’s out of this place—as out as she’ll ever get without dying, that is. Gawping open-mouthed at the smoke-stained ceiling, the shit slips out of her arse, leaving her feeling as light as… Read more

Sure enough, the cheese hits her in the guts before the kettle has time to boil. Clutching her belly, she has the sudden urge to rush to the bathroom, and yet the shapes in the steam have her captivated. She’s not religious—much to her mother’s eternal disappointment—but the imagery is biblical. It always is. From… Read more

The thought of that cup of black coffee makes her naughty bits tingle in the most delightful of ways. Peering over the edge of the bed, she knows it’ll be an awful thing to step foot on the cold floorboards, but also knows that she has no choice. Kicking off the duvet, she leaps through… Read more

She’d set the alarm for ten in the morning, but it was far too early. I mean, what kind of art student wakes up before midday? Not one she’d ever encountered. Certainly, not one that was ever worth remembering. As soon as the thing beep beep beeped into her shell-like, she switched it to snooze… Read more

Symbols, and exotic details, cooking in the folds of her squidgy, vanilla flesh. If I drink enough wine, she turns into her mother. If I put the right amount of stones into my pocket and walk the length of the creek, at some point, I’ll find myself in a river, and down down down, I’ll… Read more

It’s raining. Neither heavy, nor light, but somewhere in between. Brushing the hair from her eyes with my fingers, each droplet that lands upon her face catches the boozy light shining through the frosted windows behind us. Her coat is damp, and her nose is running. On her upper lip, she has thousands of tiny… Read more

Getting out the shower, I contemplate masturbation, but before I have the chance, there’s news of a bomb. I think it’s a bomb? But then again, it might not be. Whatever it is, it’s in Beirut. It’s being shown on repeat on TV. The constant flowering of the mushroom-like cloud of debris reminds me of… Read more

If you look closely, there’s ash on the surface of a flowing lake. It sits for a bit upon the choppy, liquid plain before being absorbed out of existence. The ash is the same colour as her pubic hair, and her pubic hair resembles the legs of spiders. There are spiders in jars. There are… Read more

The names of the stars overhead are written in her ledger. She keeps it in her bag at all times. The pages, well thumbed and worn, are adorned with sketches of animals and lady parts in full bloom. On the odd occasion when she feels closer to God than she does the devil, she finds… Read more

In a room full of dust, her love is shipwrecked. On a bed with unwashed sheets, her flesh slips from bone, and there, away from the world, she finds the meaning of life tucked between her third and fourth rib. Upon the coffee-ringed desk blanketed with dust, a tidal wave forms in a cup of… Read more