Mackie
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The Day The Whole World Went Away
I had that dream again. The crescendo heard a world away – Mackie awoke to the sound. Sweat – cold? – slicked his body. Beside him, Angel – who slept soundly even during the loudest storms – traversed parallel dimensions. Cobey should’ve called by now. Autumn was in the distance, Mackie saw looking out the painted window. Continue reading
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Dissociative
Dissociation (noun) – 1. The disconnection of separation of something from something else of the state of being disconnected; 2. Separation of normally related mental processes, resulting in one group functioning independently from the rest, leading in extreme cases to disorders such as multiple personality. Jenn once said I was disenchanted with being disenchanted. It’s Continue reading
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Turn the Ugly Light Off god
There’s a ghost in me who wants to say I’m sorry, doesn’t mean I’m sorry “If I die at this stadium,” I say, “I want the ball that did me in buried alongside me.” Clocks There is a pain digging through me. It’s only a matter of time before whatever it is surfaces and I Continue reading
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“God, You’re So Empty”
I’ve given the characters Mackie and Anderson – plus the many side characters that I’ve created since – a world of their own, in which they can frolic and play. I’ve even created the femme fetale that I kept brooding in the background. Both Mackie and Anderson are male prostitutes, who exploit their Continue reading
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The Worst Things Beautiful
Sometimes I forget people exist. Sometimes I forget they stop existing. Sometimes I forget some people never existed to begin with. Cassandra – but everyone calls me Cassie – wakes up one morning, staring up at the ceiling fan rotating above the bed she shares with long-term girlfriend, Flor. A buzz of a Continue reading
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“We Have Lost the Power to Make Each Other Laugh”
How could someone is easily hurt be attracted to someone who feels nothing for the world? Three cigarettes gone with the fourth burning slowly. I hear the carrion rotting upon the doorstep. The birds of prey gnashing at the flesh. Chrysanthemum sleeps on the couch, naked. The tuft of pubic hair peaking from the Continue reading
Chapin City Blues 