Fortune

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Our living space’s shrinking, ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎earth’s goingContinue reading “Fortune”

Warpaint

Few gentle touches,chosen from infantsare a will to imperil.Caught up in a stage,of swirling advancesto forgive the messin cries and wailing.They are all daubedin various warpaints.Laying in possessionof an outback spacebeside a muddy river.Vapors recorded,will come and go.They beseech you,to acquire warpaint.They’ll get broken,then become clean.They aimed arrows,to cure their disease. Michael Igoe, city boy,Continue reading “Warpaint”

The Katherine Factor

On pain of first lightwe made the contactin sudden misgiving.Glancing at imagesof the ages of faces.Something is happening,after what came in April.It’s easy to see them,as soon as they whirlthe jinxes in glassesalong with a takeoverof the rosier witnesses.The timeline specks,whose detailed magic stained the pages. Michael Igoe, city boy, neurodiverse, Chicago now Boston. NumerousContinue reading “The Katherine Factor”

An almost normal Friday, Death sitting on my couch, eating Cheetos

content warning : death The text message was odd ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ You doing alright today? 830 inContinue reading “An almost normal Friday, Death sitting on my couch, eating Cheetos”

Midterm Exam Questions

For the following sections, please choose the correct answer.  1. All of the below are true, except:  a. A binary out of sorts b. Pink, blue, yellow, and green c. Self-actualization d. Grass humming softly as you sleep e. What the therapist said  2. Fill in the blanks using the word bank provided:  a. On Good Fridays, we wearContinue reading “Midterm Exam Questions”

Plath’s last journal, tossed by ted

Her last one — the mom oneneed it want to see it read it seep deep between itslines gulp down what solace i can findin words our sylvia leftalive for usmoms who spiral round this lonelyrut of repetition. Oakley Ayden (she/her) is an autistic, bisexual writer from North Carolina. Her poems appear or are forthcomingContinue reading “Plath’s last journal, tossed by ted”