Fiction & Poetry

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My lipstick stained your book, Age of Innocence, with a suede cover.

flayed god whose skin is stuck shedding
because the world is too fucked to be renewed

Humans are pretty good.

white white ghost out of me

Emmy Haustrom died for me, but they carved him up to entertain the crowd.

Joe returned home one day with a massive haul of drugs to test and review for his website that had over a quarter of a million subscribers.

It’s 2030. A man does what he must, and disregards the rest.

At some point, the deer stopped dying.

At a gathering of New York socialites one stands at the end of the table and starts to speak

I had lost all faith in modernity long before I was disemboweled by an artillery shell.