Spring was in the air and I was gettin’ as excited as a lil’ bitty chickadee.

This time I didn't have the strength to dance with death. Instead, I gave her a tired but sincere smile. She was still, looking at me and suddenly looking sad. It didn't take me long to understand that this was our farewell.

Esta vez no tuve fuerzas para bailar con la muerte. En vez, le dediqué una sonrisa cansada pero sincera. Ella estaba quieta, me miraba y parecía triste, de repente. No tardé en entender que equella estaba siendo nuestra despedida.

A liquor-soaked journey through An-Cap extravagance during covid-times Mexico.

Tracing Entheogenic Traditions and Ethnobotanical Wisdom.

None of us are actually looking for Mambe, but it is one of these little missions you put into a trip where no one knows exactly what to do.

You see, the cover and synopsis of this book are on the prowl just like the main character, Paul Polydoris, who spends 337 pages fucking and thinking about fucking.

I was awoken early this cold Winter mornin’ by the buzz of chainsaws in the woods

A Narrative with a tinge of Pacific Northwest flavor

What was I going to tell them? That a guy with blue eyes had raped my soul without my consent? Not only that, but I allowed him to see me crying. He saw me. In his own way and with his blue, ugly, shallow gaze. But he saw me.

Se rompió el cristal del acuario y ahora me ahogaba, sola, sin saber a quien recurrir. ¿Qué les iba a contar? ¿Que un tipo de ojos azules me había violado el alma sin consentimiento? No solo eso, sino que permití que me viera llorando. Me vio. A su manera y con su mirada azul, fea y superficial. Pero me vio.

Explore musings on time and space from the heart of author M.M - accompanied by a short introduction of themself. This poem rings the comforting bells of our darker days, inviting us all to reach for the light, together, this new year.

Papaver somniferum: sleep-bringing poppy. Did you know that soldiers who died in battle are symbolized by red opium poppies? Veterans from the War on Drugs, rest easy.

 As I watched videos of Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah, it became clear that the author doesn’t like horror any more than I do. This struck a chord in me. Sometimes the muse takes us to uncomfortable places in order to say the things that need to be said.

"While everyone got dragged, NO, went flying like robotic moths to an electric flame into the 21st century and the disgusting cyber-hell it brought, I drew a hard-line at my land-line telephone. That was it, no further… "

Say Goodbye to Inflammation Without Medication

An exploration of homelessness and addiction in the early 2000’s written in travelogue style.

Tracing Entheogenic Traditions and Ethnobotanical Wisdom.

Dismantling politics while riding rapids