Asphalt, patched black and white, offered acceleration through a loss of friction.
I demanded nothing less than collapsing distance.
Surfaces can resist you too.
I inverted from the root upwards.
The lowest bone split in force and fissure.
I reverted


This is a work of fiction.

Love is fantasy, filtered through structured queries, precipitated in bars and bedrooms, and decayed into fantasy once more. H used to ask me for dick pics at 2 in the morning, after ignoring my

Silence. Undirected

You're in bed on a Friday night, wrapped in blankets, tired from working all day. You feel so crushingly alone that you can't even commit to watching Netflix, the prospect of absorbing new characters is too emotionally daunting. You see