Formerly known as: Here’s Hoping That My *** Dies Before She Reads This (success), which was formerly known as ‘Wait, This Isn’t Motherfucking Literature’.

Goodbye summer, You squeamish little cunt. Fuck your twatish absences, Your pissant little stunt.   Birds to hurried flight do take, A dickish move of course– Those arsehole Aves give not one fuck If we freeze to death in force.   We thought to pass the season Playing Goose-Goose-Duck, But in hurried flight those cunt-tards […]

Sometime in August

  Writing by hand by the glow of a monitor like it’s Christmas morning—sitting in darkness, shoulders hunched and leaning forward, comforted by the effort to draw heat from a feeble, single light source. Sweetly, softly stoned, my monitor is my holiday now. That and the music, a beautiful distraction from lumps in throats and […]

You Can’t Take Me With You When You Go

Earth or fire. The result of time or happenstance. It does not matter how we die. Or how we’re disposed of. Not the particulars, anyway.   Natural, unnatural, good, bad, painful, fair, unjust, horrible. No, it does not matter at all. Our hearts scream out differently; my heart doth protest, and hard. And it protests […]

Vipers and Vixens

I do not hate you, though I’m sometimes appalled by the kind of fangs you bring to bear. But we all have our own bite you know. You’re building an army of girls; ignorant girls, lost girls, weak girls. Girls who know no better because they have never counted the teeth of a crocodile (directly […]

Our History is Shit (And Gord Downie is Going to Die)

Looking back is a dangerous thing. Our history is shit, you know. Yet I survived it, as have you. Seeing how you’re reading this and all. My head has remained intact, above my shoulders, despite riding in the back of trucks. Without cabs. Sometimes even with boys. Sometimes even with grown-ass men who tucked suspiciously […]

Of Necks, Newspapers, and Death

I’ve had enough of good-byes—I’m switching to see ya laters. The older I get the more appealing this leave-taking becomes. There are fine lines bracketing my smile, and my hands and throat are somehow growing old without me. Especially my throat; everything is slowly sliding south. It appears to be a convention of ageism to […]

Shadow People

We all have them. We all know them. We are them. Shadows. What of them? What of ‘A dark area or shape produced by a body coming between rays of light and a surface.’ (Google); what of ‘The dark part of a picture, especially as representing the absence of illumination ( Either way something (or […]

The Angle of You

I drove past the street where you lived. I had to pull over to think of you, of the way you bent and moved. Of the way you found a street that duplicated the trajectory of your thoughts. It is crooked still. It begins or ends as an acute angle jutting from the boulevard and […]

Guess That’s What Doorknobs Are For…

“You leave your door wide open; anything, anyone, can walk right through.” Fitting, I suppose, as I’ve been kicking down doors my entire life. And leaving them ajar afterwards. I have been previously unburdened by my lack of forethought, concern, or restraint. I just kick it down or throw it wide—an indiscriminate invitation to whatever […]

About Last Week…

“Writer, predator; what’s the difference?” Words hurled at me in response to words hurled at another. I did not mean to hurl them; I meant to lob them gently in honour of a woman who inspired me to reflect on the consequences of our inclinations, and it backfired. Guess you can’t dip your fingers in […]