Your kick was powerful and it was very challenging to change your diaper. I actually felt this kick when you were in my tummy, which made me think you were a boy.
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Still, my early roots hurt. Swelling hurt. The earth was like a nightmare, very damp and crawling.
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Like, think of the sound of sipping coffee from the rim of the cup when the coffee is too hot. Or, imagine he was sucking pleasure back into himself and it burned.
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After the acid trip had failed to produce the awe and wonder, mind-shattering revelations, and screensaver-like phenomena that they had been primed to experience, and after yelling and turning off the “Red Pill” video on YouTube that had unexpectedly and abruptly turned into neo-Nazi propaganda, he and his friend decided to watch a nature documentary.
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Pink drips through my jaw onto my neck and shirt. My mother uses her knife-hand on my face again. The grass doesn’t know where it belongs. It grows through the holes in my face.
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Excerpt from the novelization of the album Friday Night Light by Perverts Again.
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In the mirror, the daughter’s head looked like a bloated cantaloupe. The doctor was going to be there any moment.
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The second episode of Tyrant Hotel, a magazine-for-the-ears from Hotel & New York Tyrant, featuring Scott McClanahan and Juliet Escoria.
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When I focused on the snow, it appeared I was moving trillions of miles per hour in outer space, plunging past all the stars. My perspective seemed the center of everything.
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I was in the waiting room. Then I was in the examination room. There was a chair, and another chair, and a hydraulic doctor bed.
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I worship my or any lips that say
in silence my love’s name.
I worship shadow that seems shadow bled
of her by sharpest sight.
