August 3, 2026 | Poetry
Three Poems
James Callan
Her love can grow 18 feet in a year / roots deeper than a well / Her appetite can leave you hollow / pulling away, yet drawing near
August 2, 2026 | fucked up modern love essays
Meet Cute
Parker Jin
Sometimes, I find myself fantasizing, in a dissociative state where Everything Everywhere All at Once is not just a movie but a real possibility
July 31, 2026 | The Cost of Living: Curated by Julia Laxer
A Trip to the Desert
Elizabeth Hall
BABY ANGEL
I waited for her to arrive. We planned to drive to the desert, camp in the shadow of sandstone boulders. On Monday, her tire blew out. On Tuesday, she slept late, too late to set
Walking Across America with Sean Thor Conroe
Emma Burger
In the years since my own trip, at 23, I’ve grown generally more wary of people. Have developed a much needed cynicism when it comes to random acts of generosity.
RECREATE PATROCLES
James Jacob Hatfield
The nuclear fission that generated heat should not have been survivable after one hour.
Burns with Brimstone
Alex Rost
The room is small and empty and unfamiliar. A pool of vomit in the corner. Cigarette butts ground into yellow carpet. What seem to be streaks of blood coat the walls. It looks like it smells like shit, but all he can smell is the piss in his costume.
Three Poems
Wiliam Taylor Jr.
These days the dead feel / more alive than the living
Sexual Harassment
Danielle Chelosky
I was excited at the idea of killing a man, because I thought I really deserved it.
Paideia
J.L. Moultrie
In winter, a year and a half ago, a patrol car escorted me to a shelter. I had just begun processing the dissolution of a ten-year relationship when I found myself unhoused. After my first night in the shelter, I woke to a text from my ex-girlfriend: you’ll thank me one day.
Hurting Myself and Others
Maggie Koons
“Björk.”
“That explains it.”
My Heart Is Taking the Turing Test
Holly Coleman
I’m sorry my body keeps becoming a metaphor. / I’m sorry I kissed every sign looking for the thing it signified. / I’m sorry I wanted proof.
Three Poems
Cletus Crow
i don't own a time machine / so here i am gargling syrup / at waffle house at 2:13 a.m.
Pure Protein
Iryna Somkina
I hadn’t written a line of prose in years. I was a corporate machine running on fumes, yet this girl in a G-string was playing the oracle.
Your Therapist Calls You Codependent
Jade McGregor
Loving Someone with Borderline Personality Disorder instructs you to maintain boundaries
Physical Confirmation
Lys Granier
My task is to record, photograph and label every item the unclaimed dead leave behind. Each file arrives in a brown envelope stamped Housing Bureau - Unclaimed. The instructions are clear: take nothing, feel nothing, sign all pages.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHELSEA MARTIN
Elizabeth Ellen & friends
I felt really supported and loved when Chelsea cut her bangs too.
Oxygen Bar, Vegas, 2016
Chelsea Martin, Chloe Caldwell, Elizabeth Ellen
“We should be making deals,” Chloe said.
“Healthy competition,” I said.
“I don’t have any Twitter followers,” I said
WHO STOLE MY TAMPONS?????
Chelsea Martin
I got my period the moment we got to the hotel. Getting my period wasn’t going to affect any of my plans, and was no big deal, really, aside from the fact that I refuse to pay attention to my body so am always completely surprised when my period comes. As such, I had brought no supplies to Miami with me.
Lil Bitch: An Interview With Chelsea Martin
Elizabeth Ellen
You have a great deadpan delivery that lends itself to humor. You’re so quiet, and yet so fucking hilarious.
It’s funny cos I try so hard to be expressive and everyone always gets deadpan.
Goth Ryan
Chelsea Martin
Tara and I were impressed by the Goth subculture Goth Ryan and Tara’s boyfriend took part in not just because of the black strappy clothes, black fingernails, and heavy eye makeup (which we immediately began imitating), but also their directness and openness about feelings of sadness and rottenness.
Foster Fail
Laurence Klavan
Doodles had no memory of life before the circus.
Adult Contemporary
Rob Schwartz
It was over by the apples where I noticed her. She was reaching for a Braeburn, smelling it, and when she looked to her right, I saw her face. Pretty. Pale skin and dark eyes. So familiar.
Where
Solana, Solana
Allie Gahr
One day we were instructed to pair up for a meditation. Our mats were side by side
Happy Birthday
Isabelle Newson
In a house, lungs are the window. Organs, vases on shelves in rooms. Visitors are light.
three poems from filmed media
Z.H. Gill
they’re starting to appeal to women
who had written them off as lunatics.
The Guy Who Was Just Like Me
Gideon Leek
That night, I spent hours scrolling reels on Instagram. I stopped to watch a monkey on skis.




