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Showing results for September, 2024

September 30, 2024 | Poetry

life is cheap ...

Eric Subpar

i am the machine that desires
and only in such desire
can i exist

September 27, 2024 | Fiction

crossing the line

Sophie Madeline Dess

It’s not necessarily loneliness that I feel but rather a burgeoning propensity toward violence.

September 26, 2024 | Poetry

JULIA

Bernard Cohen

Time makes pills of us all

September 25, 2024 | Fiction

Humiliation

Evan Grillon

“Aren’t hot dogs a little, you know, phallacious?” Sam asked, the words rolling out of his mouth like marbles.

“I’m a Halloweenie.”

“I hate you,” he said under his breath, but just loud enough that he hoped she would hear him.

September 24, 2024 | Fiction

Coyotes

Zoë Rose

Left to its own devices, the body is remarkably adept at disappearing. Left to others’ devices, its
veins are flushed and filled, lips are sewn shut, eyelids are propped.

September 23, 2024 | Poetry

ROUGH TRADE

MICHAEL CHANG

trying to recall

the newness of our sexual joy

September 22, 2024 | fucked up modern love essays

A Shitty Night

Anonymous

I had come out just a year or two prior, and anal sex was new. Nobody taught me anything.

September 20, 2024 | Book Review

Writing the impermanence of the self and others: Peter Vack’s Sillyboy

Maud Bougerol

Pussy from guy thirsty for an indie press

Pussy from guy who needs psychoanalysis 

September 19, 2024 | Poetry

Three Poems

Benjamin Drevlow

Oh. No. I prefer fat men and fingernail clippers.

September 17, 2024 | Poetry

Three Poems

Cletus Crow 

i grew tired of bukowski's penis / even deer looked plastic 

September 16, 2024 | Poetry

Reanimation

David San Miguel

Us—playing God, getting got.

September 15, 2024 | fucked up modern love essays

Number 10 for Her

Adam Berlin

I taste cigarette in her mouth.

September 13, 2024 | Poetry

Two Poems

Exquisite Armantè

But even that line is taken from a movie
because I don’t have the audacity
to reach inside and find something new

September 12, 2024 | Nonfiction

LIKE LIKE LIKE

Lauren Matthews

When we met, I was dazzled by how easily she surrendered to her desire. She’d wake up late and order breakfast from the store down the street, roll in late to work and not think twice.

September 11, 2024 | Fiction

The Big Asshole

md wheatley

I went in every Manhattan bookstore looking for The Cows by Lydia Davis.

September 11, 2024 | Poetry

Bildungsroman

Isaac Meredith

'Let's all go down to the river' I said...

September 10, 2024 | Book Review

A Fragment A Day Keeps The Ghosts Away: A Review Of Nate Lippens' 'Ripcord'

Danielle Chelosky

Lippens, like most writers and artists in general, occupies this space slightly distanced from the commotion of the world.

September 9, 2024 | Poetry

Marriage Ghazal

Lily Sadighmehr

I can’t read in Farsi but I taught him how to say kiss, my flower, small, my heart and now the florists know

September 8, 2024 | fucked up modern love essays

Shared Google Doc

Benjamin George Coles

We had a shared Google Doc titled ‘Ground rules for this relationship’.

September 6, 2024 | Nonfiction

On Being Mad

Jennifer Ostopovich

my first hospitalization was at 13 after swallowing a bottle of Tylenol.

September 5, 2024 | Interview

Writing About the Monster: Elizabeth Ellen interviews Mathias Mietzelfeld (formerly,“Miss Unity”)

Elizabeth Ellen

in navigating the intensely competitive, hierarchical world of ‘online indie lit’ I wedded this lust with near-constant envy, joy at others’ failures and bitterness at their success,

September 4, 2024 | Fiction

Numbers

Greta Schledorn

I wanted to feel like a domestic woman, like the kind of woman who made salmon and vegetables before going out. Then I was that woman because I’d tried to be her.

September 3, 2024 | Fiction

The Nudist Colony

Philip Traylen

I have the feeling that, if she wished, Tiff could control me entirely through simple elbow voodoo; just a loose jet-lagged tilt and I would fall to the floor, start foaming at the mouth.

September 2, 2024 | Poetry

Day In and Day Out

Max Stone

Fought so hard to be this self— this man in front of you. I’m free to wear pink and piss in the urinal.

September 1, 2024 | fucked up modern love essays

Natural Selection

Craig Foltz

8: Perhaps we’ve misheard. Perhaps our facility with language will lead to our downfall. Perhaps the public lauding of our own personas is parasitic and causes continuous displacement.