Tag: writing
-
a numbers game
My friends and I would play a game in middle school reserved for the crackhead hours of our sleepovers – the hours past midnight when the streetlamps would distort the shadows on the living room ceiling and the shapes of all our brain cells. The game was essentially when was I conceived? and consisted of…
-
rip ||instant gratification||
something is scraping up the inside of my ribcage tapping the bone for maple syrup seeping out a brown glossy shimmering nectar concentrated sugar I hate using the word should and I’ve already written this one a million times but here I am writing it again sad I’m tired of more time passing and then…
-
A Birth Scene
He’s born in the middle of the woods. He’s born beneath stars scattered across the sky, disorganized and unaware they’re that way. If he waited a month he could’ve had a bed and sterile hospital gloves powdered with cornstarch, the way his mother would have preferred. But he arrives without thinking of time or schedules.…