By Andrew Otto Psenicka Black briars slithering out of her back and the middle of her chest. Thorny and bare scraggles, grasping wildly at the air and anything near. A substance—resentment— that only the worst of tragedies could pen about this nightmare queen. The hood pulled over her head, and sparse roses on the death vines, still I know who she really is— Liquid that you can’t drink, bitter. Still, she tells me, “I’ll put the kettle on” pretending, for her own sake, I don’

By The Neo-Revsolutionist Desecrate the dead heart. Dig with nails. Scar with breath. You are in control. My hands are wrapped around brass rails. Assault me with whispered words. Attack with pelvic thrust. I cannot escape. My wrists are marked with suicidal failure. And you would be the death of me If I were not already deceased. Money: My sheltered mind, you are asleep Faith: A passionate soul is purged Love: My country heart, you are despaired Lust: A body of

By Rosie Bogumil depression hides. in your unwashed sheets / unwashed hair / unbrushed teeth exhaustion so deep your bones ache with effort but still you can’t sleep – because falling asleep means you must submit to waking up and waking up means another day spent with your same cruel thoughts. they will suggest the usual things to combat your sudden and inexplicable exacerbation of depression. you will remind them this cannot be a relapse since that implies reprieve. yes, t