Track [Poetry]

An underground procession of cars- packed, prosaic, pungent: the vessel to your bread-and-butter & to your rabbit hole: home


Beast [Short Story]

She felt a migraine at the base of her neck. Muscles tensed around the nerves until a painful pressure crept over her skull and pulsed behind her left eye. Sometimes it would go away if she had a Screwdriver and a bag of potato chips. Sometimes things just went dark, and she couldn’t remember who she’d swung at.