CW: insects i don’t want to be alone in a home teeming with insects. satyr butterflies and carpenter moths eating the insides of walls...

I know what is Goddamned As it lit down on the footpath As starvation, the language of insects So the pikefish bleeding through the...

We are in a house, brightly day-lit. Windows from floor to vaulted ceiling, windows peering into wide and wider rooms with more and more...

I didn’t believe it either, A tale told around illicit campfires Small sips of beer we all Pretended to like shared between us As the...

I opened my mouth to birth moths for you, wings on my lips for you, exhaled for you, dandelioned my desire for you, I hexed myself blue...

He will stalk what he cannot have. Dark as shadows, he hunts me along the path I take. Beneath the ground the mycelium speak—white...

I’ve never been an aggressor before. In this scene, I am the one holding the knife to her back. Ahead of me, our feet crunching in the...

CW: autopsy I’m back on the table again. An autopsy this time. I am cut open and my skin peeled back. I wish to be vulnerable, to tell...

if there’s anything I know, it’s horror. I’ve been in its soup for as long as I can remember. fantasy worlds where expectations hoarded,...

previously published in Delicate Friend May knows she has feelings for Jackie when they’re dancing. Eve of the final week of the...

Your invitation arrives Tuesday on banana yellow paper, I open the card and a thousand creamy beetles fly out, you need only ask once and...

The ocean turns from green to black, dripping jellyfish goo. shots of lump crab. The future of the ship is uncertain, rotting mer-people...

CW: mentions of blood, death I. How this old flesh both Rips at the seams and ...

I see you. Hanging upside down in the corner, waiting to take a bite of my pulse. Do it. It stopped long before even your mother thought...

I do not walk alone in the woods. I do not have a basement. I never linger in a hospital, after dark. I live not in an old, too-big...

CW: body horror This new goat is the talk of the town burnt arms spindle out of his back to tap at the air. He says he reveals mysteries...

They come out at midnight, they stay in the trees They lower the temperature thirty degrees But if you feel brave, let it be understood:...

A goat is not a horse. It is too small and has devil eyes and makes a sound more like a sheep’s sound, which is not a whinny or a neigh....

We arrive bloodthirsty & in search of her. A globe of gnats surrounds our procession of ripe death; lobes of rotting rosecorpse adorn our...

She sees him as clinging hands, groping to be held. His eyes are frost weeping melodies of past lovers' maladies. Their river churns the...