It sat on the front door stoop: one large, seeping box, addressed to both of us, and we did not, of course, remember buying such a thing.…… Read more “We Bought a Box of Organs”
When you leave I’ll preserve you (your memory, I mean). I’ll tuck my dreams of you away in a bed of Egyptian sand for centuries and centuries,…… Read more “A Letter from Your Love Interest (who is not an Embalmer)”
The rites have been described as highly uncomfortable.
Rather than xenophobia, I think, good cosmic horror and weird fiction practice something closer to exophobia–this fear of things outside human perception or outside what it means to be intrinsically people.
no goblins will glare out of dark cellar shadows because/
we all know, for quite certain, that monsters aren’t real.
I will return: Monday, Tuesday, Friday. Blank checkboxes sit beside each day’s name.
There’s so little to eat, the icebox is empty
Is it too much to ask to dine with a friend?