Mouths wide open. That’s how his neighbors spend their evenings nowadays. Necks cocked back to the ceiling, taking in the dripping streams...

It must have started somewhere, right? Only you weren’t meant to remember. That's part of the inheritance...

Wearing one shoe doesn’t stop others from minding where they step. A bare foot’s also real good at finding all the broken bits of glass and shrapnel in the halls...

“Not everyone lives, but everyone dies,” said the beer nut to the bubble...

It’s where you eat every third stem of broccoli in a stalk to maintain balance, and never answer the phone mid-ring...

But I ripped up every last boxes, and I shredded through every last bags, and I still I couldn’t find those babies, the babies I once had...

When the weight of the sun sinks back down behind the hills and the incessant beaks have stopped pecking, Mine does too....

Boutiques and coffee shops to the right of him, parked cars to the left—up in front, people screaming and darting every which way. Hopefully, none of their flailing bodies would leave a dent on his hood...

Bits of flesh flaking away—becoming bits of ash falling at my feet—becoming gobs of flesh beneath my nails....

Living in the city I should expect them. Expect to see them outside my window at all hours—scurrying like rats to and fro...

He’s no longer sitting across from me. I’m riding his voice like an ocean wave. It swelters above me and pushes me straight down into his throat, in his belly and down into his gut...

If she relished my taste in her mouth, would it make a difference? I would have still ended up dead in her mouth, resting on her moist tongue while she decided whether or not to pass me down her throat...

I know, I know, humans have all kinds of skin, but my friend is the color of just skin. When I pop him in my mouth, it’ll be the same taste no matter what color he is...

Have you ever looked under your seat on one of those trains? I didn’t think so. Well I like to think of myself as a modern-day Santa. I leave things under the seats...

Like tiny, vacant motel rooms—were the holes in my gums where my teeth had been. Like voracious sinkholes...

You’ll pretend everything is fine. You’ll convince yourself that it’ll go away. But it won’t. It’ll keep getting worse...