• Oh Sandy My Sweet Love by Fishspit Willie

    I asked God why He made the Earth. “So humans would have something to stand on.” That is what he replied, void of any mirth. “You’re joking!” I exclaimed. “Nope” and “Begone.” Perfidious women, fool feeble God, Young sniveling shits, un-requited love. The mark of Cain and the chastening rod Leave me no peace and des’late I must rove. Once I had a love so sweet and gentle. Oh Sandy! My sweet, kind, sincere . . . ‘Twas not enough for you! You needed metal! The flash of fame and fortune . . . vile veneer! You despised for grass much greener. But will you find the taste a trite…

  • She Tore My Heart Out and i Love Her by Josh Kilen

    The day was filled with sun-kissed joy When I first saw you Standing, waiting, for me Could I be your boy? Clearly I was just your stupid toy. Did the window sill mean nothing to you? Holding hands, hidden kisses, Was it all an act? Was none of it true? Give me back my heart cut in two.

  • The Smiths by Erik Carlsen

    I stroke Morrissey’s jawline It is clear and sharp On the poster I rub the stubble on his face And smell the gladiolus in his pocket The buds he pressed to his heart until they Broke pollen on his bare chest “The sun shines out of our behinds” the stereo blares over the barking dog and shouting parents yes it does, Morrissey, it does for us and no others I find a secret coven between The gatefolds of these records

  • Rant of the Pseudo-Goth Girl by Laila Tova

    Take a glance— Yeah, take a chance— Look at me for who I really am. You say the world Doesn’t understand you, But hear yourself: You’re just like them, Telling yourself you’d do it better— Meanwhile, following their script to the letter!

  • Younger Than That Now by Alexandria Duluoz

    Mother’s little helpers made Mom feel like a free thinker. Spent seminar time smoking sooty cigarettes, Life’s been good to my Dad even though he’s a drinker. Chemical reactions add to the stockpile of regrets. Broken records line the floors like shell casings in the hotel room, Music from shades of decades passed, a revolver, and a forty ounce. Heavy petals plush with life how do you begin to bloom?

  • Status Post: Post-Modern Teen Spirit by Janiine Calderon de Gonzalez

    Earphones in, I pause my shuffle to see the Sound- A repetitive turbulence of young waves crashing wildly Against a long reaching timeline yawning in a ribbon of blue But how it fails in taming the fire flower of this bosom- abloom Instead delighting like honeyed words, inspiring hormone saturated epiphanies To me and our age of riotous, pleasure seeking, tech savvy, cell wielding bonobos Seemingly so separate a species as if only 98.9% in our similarities and missing our link so distant, in fact- wavelengths away