The solipsistic awfulness of the selfie gaze,
as perceived by its intended recipients.

The generative power of creation is limitless and inexhaustible, but I am limited—and exhausted.

With a shocking lack of hesitation, she was gone. In an instant he was turned inside out, a pile of guts on the sidewalk.
It would have been a year in May, hey hey hey.

I’m going to drag my shit hair and shit beard in my shit car over to my shitty ass apartment, think about your smug superiority and thank god that I’m not you.