Art

I Do Not Consort With Facts – Eris Mohr

well really there is absolutely nothing going on except i am dying i am dead
it’s hard to say it’s even easier to mean than it is to say although i have no strength for either anymore i was as clear
as i could possibly be which is i was prone to tremendous focus but now this has all but destroyed me

.

dear aliens,

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Stories

Holding Hands – SG Phillips

To nervously walk, after a few dates, for what feels like an hour, to wait for her purse to switch arms after she brushes your arm, and then you switch sides while walking because of that purse, only to see her switch that purse to her other arm, and then you bail on the plan of grabbing her hand in its entirety- and she looks at you nervously one block later once she realizes what happened,

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Art

Devils Dance Together on the Punchline – James D. Casey IV

Cut out your tongue, slice off your nose, and tear out your eyes so you can hear better. Sharpen your remaining senses by losing a few to catch life’s ironic sarcasm in unfeeling hands, next to go. The only way to truly live. Can you forgive those in heartache from the loss of God? Will you turn the other cheek? Will you play the victim? It matters not for whom the bell tolls,

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Art

language charade dead inside the clade – Sean Kilpatrick

born on a blade made flat

suckling handle scraps

of blood below a palm

we speak serpent balm

stillborn neolates hatched on nature’s sleeve

why alternate the frequency of a scream

just as mute an articulation

ripped from gesturing fulguration

turns pale on the wind

we suck back in

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