She is always “sixteen years old… three weeks of something.” She spent summer afternoons in her basement, which was empty except for an unused sewing machine, two couches and a library of second-hand novels. Boys reached up her shirt and she loaned books to them: books that smelled like small towns, the corners of the pages curled from nicotine. She polished herself with eyeliner,...
This thing inside him has symmetry; those talons within, outstretched and colorless, aren’t just archaic. They’re ancient,a portion of a bigger fallacy. This thing inside him is not shapeless; its form is on the underside of a crosswalk, inscribed in shithouse vandalism. He sees jaws gnawing through his ligaments, plunging through muscle and murky with blood. In reality, those jaws are...
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Anonymous asked: sometimes at night my pen15 sticks up. what does this mean