She loved her lips, the soft curve up and sharp curve down, coming together to form a cupid’s bow. Her lips were a good thing, and she was grateful. Her eyes were a good thing too. She had loved her eyes since the first time she was loved because of them. “Your eyes,” a lover had said. “They shine like Gold!” The girl had blinked, confused, but her lover interpreted it as flirtation and had leaned in for a kiss. “They are?” she’d asked, breaking away from his lips “They are,”

No I cannot be your idol. Stop living so slow. The thing you call living is drowning in media overflow. We call you complacent. We share the same name. Brothers by nature, by mother, by pain. Separate approaches lead to different paths. Everyone is trying not to crack. I’ve been thinking about getting hooked on crack. And I'm trying, I'm trying, but there's no one to tell. So, I know that, no matter what, I will end up in hell. No matter, no matter, no matter what you say to

And reviewed by cunty 'ol me Do not read this book if you don't like metaphysical fun or gore. If you don't like gore, you will just need to skip about five pages total, not a deal breaker. The book tells the story of an abusive relationship. One of those where people say that someone is bound to kill the other one before long. The reader is yanked around a lot, and you won't really get the full picture until the very end, where you may realize, like I did that this whole boo

And all of life is the same now. Cool, blue, wet water. Children laughing. And I know that I'm safe. And I know that I'm safe. And I know that I'm safe. There's a monotony in madness, and I don't know if that's why I'm glued to the couch, but I'm glued to the couch. These days, when I'm not teaching lessons, I'm glued to the couch. And I cannot move, I really can't. I've tried. I've taken more Adderall - I've taken anti-anxiety - I've had coffee, but I'm stuck. I'm stuck, and

When I cut my hair off, I thought I looked sick. Under all the sticky-up blonde was just sickness, and death. I thought about returning to the places I’d left but realized I couldn’t or I’d encounter sickness and death. Community is impossible to create in a place that can’t retain it. Where people stay and always go. Life is nestled in between two families -- life locked. Hair falls out when your adrenals start to drain it. Follicles nestled into rot. No one can stay,

I don’t want to be a mess anymore, I really don’t Drunk on rage, spilling ashes onto my sheets and on the floor. If I had died today, I think I would have found my life a bore. So I keep on living the same day over and over. Pretending I am eager to see what else life has in store. But that isn’t true, or everyday wouldn’t be the same. Endlessly drowning in complacency until it turns into rage. Stop drowning woman! Get up. You have eggs in your uterus, you have a reason to ke

A book written by Thomas Grattan and picked apart by cunty ol' me. Introduction I had to take a break because I finished the book, Gordon was being a lot, I had to re-read a few parts, and I realized through the whole thing that (although I claimed to have hated the book) I think I actually really did like it. In this review you will definitely find small timeline errors and be inundated with spoilers. If either of those are a deal breaker for you, don’t read this. You will n

Women look in the mirror, women do their hair, women go to work, and women have careers. I was one of those women, raised up by a mom who was not a lesbian but has never been in love, or even looked at a man, since my father left her ass for God. I went to a high school that produced, Jackie O. A woman whose face I first saw in history, her hair flying when she reached back to grab a chunk of skin and blood. I got a job in tech, as many of us do, and I did a good job, as many

>> Note: this piece, like all of my pieces, is a work of fiction. I have scoliosis because I get horny when I sit upright. Luckily I’m hyper mobile and my spine bends to every male delight. Humans are animals,and we can smell someone in heat. We don’t talk about it, it’s not what we do. It’s not proper, it’s not natural, it’s not a very neat. The taste of sex is tangy, metallic, next to blood. It’s nice though, a nod to that one Jew. Who was he again, and why do we drink his

6 people. 2 women, 4 men. 1 rambler, 1 asleep, 2 awfully silent, 2 hard to see. I realized I was dying when I was three. Time is a concept, and not a very good one. This meeting was supposed to be anonymous, but everyone’s just autistic like me. The men are talking about God, but really it’s just womb envy. How do I tell them I am here because my womb feels too heavy. What can I do as an addicted astronaut? As an ambedextrous aficionado. An asshole with some extra dots. Ever

Theres a bench in a park. There — the steel one with the little holes. People will know if you’ve sat on this bench, they’ll be able to see the circles on your skin. This bench looks like a girl with long, brown hair. It looks like a new pair of converse for the first day of 6th grade with a sandwich packed for lunch. This bench looks like putting on eyeliner in 1st period before rubbing it all off on the bus ride home. It looks like growing up too late and growing up too fas

I’ve been dating again, and trying to fit in. Neither thing has been going well, not for me, and not for anyone in my wake either. At least I am very thin. I am blamed for my anorexia, although it wears me thin. I think I must have a bladder problem because it feels like there’s something really, really wrong, something deep within. You can’t control the weather, but you can control your pee. And that’s something that I’ve done, holding it all up and bottling it inside of me.

Trapped in my throat are words I wanted to say to people I wanted to know. But I forgot how to let the words go. You always know just what to say, and in just the right way. It makes me shy and flustered, which makes you go away. I wish I was like you. I wish I wasn’t so blue. Wish I didn’t feel like everything was a personal offense. Wish I wasn’t so out of tune. So tense, too intense. Always rushing into my next sentence. You go slow — careful with your words. Chosen and ra

My husband and I live together, but we sleep alone. He’s a large, burly man who makes me soup, and dominates me in his desires and his...

She loved her lips, the soft curve up and sharp curve down, coming together to form a cupid’s bow that could really be admired. Her lips...

I bought my first pack of cigarettes on my 17th birthday. “Don’t judge me,” I told the wrinkled lady behind the counter. She stared at...

As a teenager and a young adult, I often hated my mother. I still do, sometimes, hate my mother. I hate my mother for the things that she...

It’s stormy out, so my day has been slow. It’s always harder to do things when it’s gray. It’s 8pm and I’ve smoked weed all day and...