Stories

A Proposal to a Park Bench – David Hay

The sky falls forward. A drunken man half-horizontal, speaks candidly and lovingly to a park bench. ‘I don’t have anyone, I never had anyone, not how others do anyway, not how that crow knows purpose.’ He looks towards a grotesquely fat crow staring into him, as if it was just another part of his soul. His gaze is lonelier than a childhood sea, only witnessed between dreaming and waking. 

A group of teenagers expelling flavoured air,

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Art

this poem is titled untitled – Adedapo Adeniyi

the timeline of my existence is a concept album
my father named me jargons, my mother wept and said let my middle name be sex, I did not have a surname, I did not come from a family, I was not born
in the womb I screamed death to all
i didn’t know how to spell bloody murder
i didn’t know how to scream
so fetus suicide,

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Art

It’s the Pills Talking – Michael Washington

One day you forget your own name picking up more of us from the pharmacy.
Before you know it, you’re hitting rock bottom at a PAW Patrol Live! show,
You start splitting us in halves. Our time here gets cut short, like a line
break. Your liver, which used to be the heart of a burgeoning utopia,
gradually tapers into a ghost town. The doctor warns you again:
“Given your condition,

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Stories

Solo – Fawzy Zablah

His eyes followed her up and down the beach and the attention made her giddy. 

She was home now. This felt like home. The freedom. The white sand. The beautiful bronzed tourists. The sound of the Greek tongue. The smell of the sea. Greece is home. She was sure of it now.

“So, where from?”

An older silver haired man probably around his mid to late sixties inquired as he lay on his hotel beach chair next to her.

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