Pieces

The worry of the spot on my soul.

I worry for this baby. I worry that it can feel the dark spot on my soul. That it can hear every errant thought that plagues me. If I was just myself, I would be consoled by my inaction. A thought is just a thought, not so bad a thing as to act. But this tiny creature, what if it knows? What if it knows that every day I wonder about leaving this place and everyone I know? What if it knows what I think of other men, that I think of them? What if it knows how much I resent it sometimes for the pain in my back or the weight on my bones?

The miscarriage

The neighborhood

Living in the carcass of some long-forgotten animal is more beautiful that one might thing. The ancient ribcage towers over the edges of our town like curly spires of bone, picked clean by something much more powerful than the long-forgotten creature. We all seemed to settle our stone cottages along the edges of the cavern. They each nestled comfortably in a troop of mushrooms, their caps cloaking the cottage in shade and a modest fluorescent glow. They’ve taken to colonize closest to where the ribs dig into the ground, preferring the company of

Party new weather

“Alright, I’ll bite. Who’s entertaining tonight?”

“Okay don’t be mad...” he trailed off, eyeing me cautiously. A hesitant and barely repentant smile creeping onto his face.

“If you fucking say -”

“Bud’s” he jumped back a touch until my reaction settled on my face.

“That male sucks! And I’m so tired of drinking Glowglass. I end up glowing for like four hours and even my mom isn’t drunk enough to not notice.”

“You know, I had a feeling you’d say that.” He unhooks a flask from his belt, and tosses it to me. “Brewed it this morning.”

I caught it, uncorking to smell

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