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  May 12, 2023 It’s easy to forget The feeling of rooms I’ve mourned  The houses I’ve left I've mourned Sunday flowers  Arranged in sepian In a moment of lightness I became a sponge for it Airy  And float Over the embers of last nights fuckery I’ve thought it correct to wake up sore And wash the finery owned by old hands Play slave And grate Play beaten ash To one’s weight Desire the boil of whip wounds To Drug-On Tick tombs Slink into the corner cabinet Lick wounds Swallow mild feminist rubbish  Delivered weak Asinine dribble Emerge moronic Wet consume Your tales of now Help me to wake bitter Spit hot superiority Bullseye To the back of a lovers throat And stir For years And burn and shake  In bled fury It’s all very simple We own no other We possess nothing But our bodies encased But our actions, purposeful But our spirits, fine And all that happened Was that he was tired And wanted to rest beastly The ailing joke - He remained so Blue moons after he woke Slip and gorge Gush and
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The Vacation - Alex Antiuk

APRIL 27, 2023 I couldn’t believe there was not a single mention of tacos on their website. The photos on Google didn’t show a single tortilla. My fingers kept scrolling, desperately hoping while I thumbed the touchpad one would appear.  This was going to be the greatest long weekend. But I still asked Bex, who was lounging on the couch, watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall on Tubi, with ads playing every five minutes, “What if this is a mistake?” My voice trailed nervously. Bex had made it clear, “I won’t say yes in an Applebee’s…” I had spent my tax return on a real ring, and hoped when she finished her chicken wing combo meal and giant, neon green cocktail she’d been happy enough to see past the construction workers at the bar, the local insurance tycoon - the lone suit wearer in town - and the hoards of overweight families who ate there weekly. I had a half eaten, overcooked steak in front of me when I reached into my pocket. I could feel the Kay Jewelers box, their logo deep

16mm Situated - Sloan James

  MARCH 11, 2023 Share Image credit: Still from "Tired snail eyes look around on a jog home" —  courtesy of  Lucas Haynes   16mm Situated 28-February-2023     Staving off the lower back pain of a man muddling middle age. But that would mean death at... never mind. The dull and dim concoction of nicotine, Endone, Turkey 101 and THC doesn't quell too much. I thought I was through it. Through with spine serpents snaking and looping and hooping round the bottom of my back, hissing at every movement and threatening bites of venom. Just sink the fangs in already slithering queen of mediocrity. Maybe those days jogging mattresses up staircases for minimum wage are ghosting my future plans. Plans to stand up and walk from one room to another.        We put off dinner because hanging paintings has taken all day. Where does the damn  Rigney  go now that he's away? Gone? in a different place. Another home. One I've never been to. But green pastures for his bare feet to roam.