Big Bruiser Dope Boy


By - Dec 8, 2017

I wanted to sink my face into Aoudad’s haunches like one of those padded rings at the head of the massage tables in the training room, to lap at the winking center of their grainy meadow, to taste past him, polish the floor through his taint with my tongue, plumb for undiscovered metals in a hidden mine, be the hook in the cum-mottled wall on which his taxidermal trunk was mounted.

Read More >

The Gibson Damnation Resurfaces

By - Jul 31, 2017

I woke early morning on a continent of urine spreading to the edges of my in-laws’ mattress. The piss, an acrid, ...

Read More >