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seamlessly blending reality and unreality

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11.02.2022 | IN PLAIN SIGHT

the physiological blind spot

refers to an area of blindness in the visual field

where the optic nerve

passes through the retina.


minimally perceptable

functionally non-existent

what could be hiding there?

10.31.2022 | i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

i am so sad

10.30.2022 | treadmill of viscera

the trees outside are waving to me

the wind that jerks them around for me

the clouds ahead that rain down their sorrows upon me

i hold the universe in my hands

on my shoulders

in my heart

through my body

runs deep and aching

my bones creak with the pressure

my guts spill out onto the floor

they were already covered in

dirt and dust


and decaying

wrought iron shoulders and trembling fingers

my skin falls like ribbons around me

tied a neat little bow on my arms

are my mistakes

countless and climbing


where do i stop and the pain begins?

when do i stop and my life begins? i'm

stretching turning splitting apart slipping


i'm sick of picking myself up

running forward and getting nowhere and dragging my insides


10.17.2022 | autopsy




there’s something in there.

they reach into their pockets, digging for their weapon, the blade they kept at hand for moments like these

the water encroaches further

desperately. searching. reaching into their flesh, between their ribs. its not here

the moon pierced through scant clouds like spears as the black water begins to lap against their feet. the sea gives no clue as to what lies beneath. but it’s something. and that’s enough

they shove their hand down their throat in one last desperate move

fingertips brush again smooth slick metal, covered in bile. grasping the metal. blood starts to spill. more as they slide the blade free, drawing a clean line up their esophagus. threatening to split them in half

they had no choice.

the water wraps its fingers around their ankles. moving up their calves. it reaches their knees by the time they pull the blade free; blood is pouring from every orifice. they can’t see. smell. hear. taste. everything’s filling with blood, flowin,g pouring over into the icy sea around them as


the thought of a scream was merely that as blood strangled them as teeth latched onto their left ankle; whatever that creature is, it’s here, and it’s not going down without a fight

steadfast, as best they can they grip the blade in both hands and swing downward. it slices straight through their left calf. the creature isn’t phased. ripping. pulling. tearing. without a leg to stand on they fall into the freezing waves.

the water is so cold it cuts straight through their flesh and bone, but it washes enough of the blood away that they can groggily open their eyes. lift their head

what were they doing?

the tide pulls back, back, recedes to whence it came.

they look down at their mangled body

not a single tooth mark. puncture wound. sign of any struggle

a missing left foot. a long slice up their sternum like an autopsy.

they rest their head back down on the rocky shore one last time as the water overtakes them.