We pressed our hands against the curtain, feeling for thick brushstrokes. We felt what we thought might’ve been bumps or streaks of paint, b

malaise makes its path towards glass of a girl’s bedroom

“You are a fucking idiot, aren’t you? You know how much I hate spiders?”

There’s dried blood on that branch

She holds porridge to their dry mouths

I slept at the counter with my head on the till. Each night, having failed to fill it, it filled my dreams instead

and the creaking creepy tree chiroo chiroo the night noise makes chiroo chiroo chiree

... a grotesque half-woman, half-coyote head, fixed onto the wax body of a woman.

I sit at the wheel

By: Lisa Mary Armstrong Is love a gamble or a game we must play? She promised that he’d love me till his dying day I bought a love potion...

Then, from behind the bar a melodic voice pulled him back. “What’ll it be then,” called the voice.

The average lifespan of a moth is eighteen days

bathe in the light of the absent moon

I grew you in my mind, blooming flourishes onto your perfect template.

Otherwise they could have been just about anybody.

... an automated voice sternly shouts, “You have a new customer! You have a new customer!”

you can buy one of him nailed to a piece of wood wearing a loincloth

The weight of the tentacle bears down on his entire body and he watches his ribs appear and disappear under each breath.

Can you see images of flames? Of a fiery horizon burning scarlet against a star-scattered void?

By: Emer O’Hanlon My Dead Sister’s Headphones are Top-of-the-range By: Emer O’Hanlon When my big sister died, I took her headphones...