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

"As I speak, I realize a few things. First of all, I realize that the birth of so many new histories may be the exact reason why the act of summary is so strenuous."

Cleo knows they dream of places their DNA remembers from prior generations. Imprints left behind in mitochondrial codes and enzymiatic envelopes for protein architectures that generate subconscious metaphors they are continuously learning to decipher.

Everything went dark. I don’t know for how long, but when my eyes opened I was on my back in the street surrounded by a mob of masked people dressed head-to-toe in black.

Where do the children who never saw the light go? Maybe they live in that parallel world. Maybe they are allright there and don't want us to steal their friends, our amnesias.

¿A dónde van lxs niñxs que nunca vieron la luz? Quizás vivan con nuestros olvidos. Alomejor están bien ahí y no quieren que les robemos a sus amigos, los olvidos.

The gang gets stranded in the outer reaches of the Burning Man galaxy, spending their time busking for bolts, mining asteroid belts for axle grease, and hitching rides with highway sailboats to visit wrecking yards and watch BRC burn from a distance.

A tale from Midwest to Pacific Northwest

How the editorial system works in Italy?