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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The sun will scrape your neck with rude fingers and bleach your bones. Neither of us will be able to stop it. Sweat will collect in your ribcage in the least sexy way I’ll ever see; your polo shirt will melt and leave colored kisses on your chest, India blue dye to match my lipstick. The...
  • Poetry > Song Lyrics
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    July trailed with its hair in drips Its fingers on our pillow cases, We never slept, We lingered in purple nights giving way to coffee yellow morning. We were a mess, the stains in my skirt, the times I tried to tell you this wasn't working, it never did, We couldn't give. When ...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    She was an atlas with no world to hold She Was meant for bigger times, So this is how you fold her in the drawers inside your mind Your words were spat with lipstick And they’re Stuck between your spine And the drink you had last Tuesday on your way to see her shrine. She was a lovely girl...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It’s times like his I wonder how I got roped into this. And then I remind myself: Oh. Right. I signed up for this. Voluntarily. I know I’m lucky to have a summer job, and that I should thank my lucky stars or whatever that I worked up the nerve to apply. “You had direction,...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    And I know how it would happen, too. She'd stand there, fumbling with the lipstick cap, and I'd wait for her to get it. I'm courteous. I'd wait until she twisted the red up, like a bloody finger pointing at her, and that's when I'd clear my throat or something stupid like that. I know I'm awk...

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