#FF073A (NEON RED) by Brenden Layte
You, waking from dreams of dinosaurs, exploring deep in the ocean, worlds where Care Bears and Popples are real, listening.
COUNTDOWN by Ash Kaul
You mutter “Fuck you” under your breath at his daily counting routine, for the apathy it shows for the hell the world is girdled in.
A FLAWED GUIDE TO ANTIFRAGILITY by Kevin Zhu
List To-Dos. Vent secret frustrations. Compose abominable poems. Dream impossible fantasies.
FOREVER 21 by Sylvia Math
As our postcoital conversations pushed us further and further away from each other, I lounged in his bed, nibbling on a melting L or Q or F.
FROG LEG by Diana Anaya
Frogs are thought to have a simplified version of our anatomy, which makes them all the more reasonable subjects for high school dissections.
AN OPEN WOUND by Jasmyn Huff
What’s it like to die? To stop being. Gone in a moment, carried away on the wind. Does it hurt?
A CORBEAU BY ANY OTHER NAME by Camille U. Adams
How a mother could be so? Why when she’s in the same room with me I feel swallowed up by a heavy coat pulling me down?
ALL THE BEES IN CALIFORNIA ARE DEAD by Piper Gourley
I’m in California now, where bees die in the light. Where everybody dies first, then lives forever.
SEX, OR by Brett Milam
Unbeknownst to you, you were in a ménage à trois with me and depression and I was only able to pleasure one of you.
OMENS ASIDE, I KENNED IT WOULDN’T LAST by Gabriela Denise Frank
The chugging train slowed, then sighed to a halt over the England-Scotland border, the so-called station a mere strip of platform engulfed in endless verdant meadow dotted with clots of creamy sheep.