i have peat eyes.
SEND US YOUR AMELIASPLOITATION THEORIES, POETRY, FICTION, COMICS, ART, AND OTHER
A girl he loves, his precious sun
Her eyes like petals, soft and bright
deciding who should wear the hats
of happiness and hardship
‘You’re beautiful!’ the half-eaten living man says, /
a stream of blood splattering the half-eaten dead /
man’s half-eaten face. He doesn’t even flinch.
at the end of the day
it comes down to a fist fight
JUST GOOD OLD-FASHIONED VANILLA-FLAVORED AMERICANA FOLKS
we bought it together
at a pawn shop on East Ohio Street
where people don’t know much about violins
Her harness buckled over a Christmas sweater. Yorkie-size. Nice and warm.
Maybe she knows something about metaphors, survival, & opposites.