Buddy The Squirrel
January 20, 2018
A Human Infinity
George Jameson Courville - Editor-in-Chief
November 9, 2017
April 9, 2017
The New Dichotomy
Two Sonnets for Michael Brown
Kind-of A Cinderella Story
Live Lit: That Time I Tried To Read A Personal Essay Out Loud in Front of Other People
November 25, 2016
Easton S. Salsman
I am in a state of perplexity, stuck between whether you raped me or I raped myself.
Diluting all sense of rationality, a gray area surrounds me like a thick, dark, fog.
Its muddy, concentrated walls moisten themselves against my skin.
Seeping through the epidermis, the greyness coats itself along my inner shell, filling and hardening
You’re under my skin, and I want you out.
But time cannot undo the grayed penetration; of me fucking you, of you fucking me up.
Your soupy, slimy miasma interlaces itself with my heart, my brain; my corpse.
Possessed, a lion aimlessly gnawing on a barren bone for meat, I am wrapped around your finger, your
ego, your libido.
Despite this grey fog surrounding me at every mention of your name;
I still, somehow, love you.
I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!
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