So we move to a large and isolated house, with marble floors that are cold on my bare feet, and life starts over again. If there is one aspect of my story of which I am certain, it is this: It can always start over. I don’t know how to talk about the life I’m […]
so i’m at an art exhibit with yet another man and we agree to walk along separate walls, because i don’t want his thoughts interrupting mine, and he’s standing across the room from me when i turn and realize he has the exact same build as the photojournalist, even the back of his head looks like his, […]
“Are you still in my house?” he texts, as I stand, doting on my bruised tush in the mirror, the array of marks left by his hand reminiscent of an archipelago. He’s gone, for a while this time. But he keeps giving me keys to the various residences he keeps. “I don’t see how that’s any of […]
the time is coming when i will go back into the photojournalist i feel it like that child of five scary thing behind me falling up dark cellar stairs the time is coming when i will crawl back into him or he will come back into me hey, did i ever tell you how he was already a part […]
The hacker likes me, I suspect, for all of the things he can’t have from me, for all of the things I don’t give him. He doesn’t like me because I make him feel complete; he likes me because I make him feel desperate. He likes me because he can’t take my pulse, track my […]
He smiles menacingly, his stupid sexy rocker hair hanging in his face as he hovers over her. “Listen, I’m happy to keep the mystery going,” he concedes, as regards her withholding her name. “Just give me the first letter.” “No.” Frustrated, he lunges in, kisses her hard. “I left my wife for you,” he growls. “Tell […]
It was only a matter of time before I found myself here, I suppose. Though even so, I honestly didn’t see it coming. The therapist drives a very clean, white Porsche and lives in an upscale loft downtown and has three teenage kids that he tells me are in beta-testing. And his money makes things […]
so some alarm on his phone chimes and he slides out of bed and into the shower. and before i’ve really thought it through, i’m fleeing my own hotel room. because my love for him is a fucking delicious knife in my heart, and it’s killing me and vitalizing me in the way that I very much […]
He likes me because of my thigh-high stockings. I know this because he told me. He’s charitable in his verbal appreciation of me. Though I can’t be certain, I suspect his loquacity probably helps dispel thoughts of his dead, manic-suicide, ex-wife. Filling up the space with sound. I’m curious as to why there are no pictures of […]
So the surgeon suggests, three consecutive times, that we go out. Like on a date, I guess. I have a fondness for the surgeon because, despite having my number, he only ever corresponds with me occasionally. This is a good quality in a man, if you’re me. So he’s got that going for him. But I […]
my delusions 