Fiction & Poetry

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One of the dumbest symptoms of my months-long psychosis was that I fell in love with almost every guy who crossed my path.

(how) was more practical than english literature (why) so it was the logical choice.

Ventriloquist racist: (I’m not saying this)

And another offered limb Frances cricked, and another, folded each appendage against itself. “Brittle boy,” in a kind of whisper she said.

It’s hard to meet expectations when everyone calls you Brooks’ son, or Brooks’ boy.

For Christmas, we exchange tragedies.

Cynthia’s a good cop. Was a good cop, anyway.

I never had an alarm clock that worked so I had to use my own screams as a wakeup call before going for a piss at 3am

The phone vibrated, and he felt seen from his front left pocket.

I hated bicycles as a boy.