ISSUE 48 | JAN 2015
Illustration by Antonia Stringer.
I will greatly multiply thy sorrow - the World (where your mother never is) - she is nothing but a stump - the walled Paradise we need to escape - a claustrophobic womb - lest they become miserable psychopaths - always simultaneously excessive and deficient - she used to wipe your ass - The mother is seeking her freedom - Live like fellow veterans living together in peacetime.
You kept eating the ice chips and saying « ¡Mmmmm! » - The next day you were dead - rolling down the hills of the cemetery - huffing back and forth in the hallway - « Don’t worry, I’m finally leaving » - the blurred border of gray - your wavy jet black hair - cheeks getting flushed - the red checkered curtains - we play these little games of hide and seek - taking dainty little bites - My séance, my rules - This recipe makes two pies
yellow light yellow room - cut shame to none - the first memory is a thing without - birth a heavy reason - she broached the topic
a healthy sandwich - « Que significa Big Red? » - snake eyes - once in a while they would PSHSH make a leak - the last ship - my father almost dropped dead
as part of the war effort all the girls in town signed up to perform oral sex on surgery patients - the spectacle of my molars drying up and scabbing off, along with a section of gumline - Gilgamesh picks up the axe, throws it at his mother’s feet, and embraces it “like a wife" - they don't do any of those grown-up things you do with money, like investment - who the fuck are you to tell them how to live their golden years, junior?