Skip to main content

Commenters, you are doing a great job.

Hey commenters,

Thank you for interacting with me.

It makes the art of my delusional visions come to life.

It also makes brings us closer together,

Without therapy

And hey...

Martha would tell you, "It's a Good Thing"

Thank you for commenting,

I really do earnestly love

having conversations with strangers

and this is the best and safest way for

me to do that without being followed home

But please though, really though, unless it's for funny purposes ( objective, not merely catering to your weird sense of sadistic humor )

Don't get all fan fiction rape fantasy on me. I will not be down.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Can't Hear Your Little Red Rooster


I call this room Home.

He will not look at me

His eyes flicker with

a speck of violence.

my strained smile,

disgusted by

my pleading eyes.

my veins freeze

icy blood

tearing through coronaries

May Day

'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…