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slits in the head cavity have cranked open once more. their gears, rusted. the low rumbling current of air streaming in and out reaches the ears before the black brightens to yellow. am i breathing? signals strike pots and pans through the groggy hallways of gray matter. the steak in the chest conducts a fresh…

i carry stress in my hips, jaw, brainstem, and along the longitudinal axis that curvilinearly joins my two shoulders. Fatigue and pain cut through my lower back; my third eye is carved by worry; overstimulation and shame clamp my teeth together tightly; anxiety traces a clothes hanger from shoulder to shoulder, hooking my neck with…

In middle school, I would accompany my father to the farm he maintained an hour south of our home. With cowboy boots slung into the back of the truck, I’d hop in the cab with soft puffy eyes that returned to sleep on the commute. Sports commentary would blare through the radio until the hardware…

I’ll listen to the same song on repeat for weeks. For the moments it’s not reaching my deaf ears, it’ll be in my dreams and being belted silently in my head. If it makes me feel, I have to move really fast with it. I skip to the part where I escalate everything, say I…

Near third grade, my mother cancelled cable, and it ruined my summer. A forced detox from camping out in front of that gridded light box for hours on end left me stirring. To this day, my brother will bring it up to mock me, and I get red at every mention.  For spending hours watching…

I have these shorts that look like a diaper. Like an old stretched out green near-linen diaper. They’re kind of cute, as you can imagine. They’re loose in the crotch, and if I wore them descending a staircase, my vagina would easily be seen in full from most angles. They are most comfortable sans underwear.…

What would life be like if i were simply and solely the muse? Would I come home after my office job each day and retire to the life of a muse? Everything I would do, even how my fingers would leave the door knobs I rest shut, would be watched. The way I’d shove my…

I’ve been listening to a podcast that’s short form. Twenty minutes feels right because my ears — let’s blame a set of inanimate body parts for this shortcoming — are not patient enough for hours of other people talking. Thirty pushes it because i’m selfish right now — it’s the ears’ fault! The podcast is…