I just thirst for barbed wire
 

He’s still rambling about my womanhood, my untapped, ethereal potential, when I reach for a tissue and blow his hot load out of my nostril.

But her coup de grace was when she started bringing a white boyfriend to our parties. He was a real champion. His name was John.

Motioning the stone girl over, she
deadpans, “It’s grenadine, not blood.”

When the angel came I was young.

“I like the way how you wriggle when
Your mind doesn’t agree with your heart”

KS

Our translation of home.

He had lost his virginity to nothing less than the beast of the swamp.

What’s your name? Like an oak
I want to carve a heart
into our washing machine.

We started as open, NOT poly. This was a very important distinction to us, despite not having a working definition of either types of relationships. It was, we both agreed, substantially less cringe

Definitely one poet holdover is just being a magpie for weird

I do this because I need a hobby. Because hobbies are things you do when nobody loves you. I watch movies too.

Mysterious beauty spot the farra on cheek.

You’ve heard of flightless fish that get flung out of
the water for wanting something special

By March of 2016, my cousin Josh and I were practically flat broke. We’d been having an incestuous and adulterous affair, one that elevated his title to “cuzband” (he hated that term). Four years

The great neon calamity of his own life exhausts him.

One night I was so drunk, I couldn’t feel my face.

Everything would be fine, sort of, if she could close this deal.

Ruth Madievsky’s debut novel All-Night Pharmacy has everything I want from a book: a toxic sister relationship, countless nights at a seedy LA nightclub, and an unexpected sapphic romance. After her

There is a strength of purpose, I suppose, a fortitude and integrity, in simply admitting yourself to be a malevolent presence skulking the dingy alleyways of your own life.