By Dez Pondant I'm a big burly man, flex my chest for the girls. I like football and fishing but I'd rather do curls. Not into reflection, unless it's a mirror. Can't handle rejection or if you are queerer- -than folk, If you're woke, lefty scum, you're a joke. Sssshhh, Daddy can't finish unless he can choke... You beta cuck fucks are in awe of my powers. Just ignore the fact I skip leg day and showers. Yee-haw! I'm a cowboy, I shoot from the hip so- -stand and deliver, your

By Victoria Jones It is early and dark, I can see the moon. No heat— only frost and the brittle bite of wind on cold fingers. Artificial light grounds us, holding us—firm— to purpose. Black lace on black hands, a respite, from the uniform and dull. Your flowers were fresh once, scent floating green in the air. Now they are withered, and crack when touched —even gently. They are still beautiful. We descend again. Coats on tight against the winter wind. Pray that I don’t jostle

By Adele Robins “Dont be ridiculous!” She scoffed. “Of course you can’t pick the day you die; It’s not like a booking at a hotel or a seat on an airplane.” We were discussing an article we had read in a magazine about the concept of predicting mortality. But, I thought, imagine if you could? Death is the biggest secret the universe keeps from you, until its too late to cancel. Maybe there is a business opportunity out there for the control freaks, Type A’s, perfectionists