by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
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over/out
By John Sweet and i was dreaming about your death and i knew it was a dream, knew you were alive, and i woke up crying, 85 degrees at two in the morning, empty house in a pointless town had given up on escape but could still appreciate the idea…
dali, drunk on the eastern bank of the tioughnioga river in the year of my birth
By John Sweet this quiet knowledge, this unspoken admission, this stupid goddamn truth that all of your great adventures are in the past that nothing can be touched without the ever-present threat of doing it harm not by you, of course, but by 100,000,000 others just like you, which is…
sunflowers in autumn
By John Sweet An ambulance in the sunlight. An arm, a leg, something missing from the picture, but the picture has no sound. The dog has been shot twice, but refuses to die. Cut its head off and it grows back,…