‘Skull Kid’s Lament for the Dead’ and other poems
Liam Swanson
I don’t care for the end
of this game. Every struggle is the struggle
for the maintenance of heterosexuality.
I don’t care for the end
of this game. Every struggle is the struggle
for the maintenance of heterosexuality.
It’s hard to remember, sixteen years later, what I found so mesmerizing about a graphically obsolete princess. The jerky, jagged game was unrecognizable to the world I remembered spending dozens of hours in.
On Halloween, I drank too much. I didn’t vomit or drive drunk or anything like that, but I most certainly embarrassed myself. The details aren’t important—no one was mad and friends of friends thought I was hilarious—but the next morning, I was scared at the loss of control. I greyed out enough to make my […]
Check pieces of heart: little girls popcorn-
kernelling from your spoils. They’ll ask
to fashion a trellis from third & fourth
ribs on your left side (hey! listen!) a temple
to shapes you take: child – wolf – tree-mask.
Straddle that line between the life you have now and the life you hope for, and as time has told over and over, choices will have to be made because one cannot have both.
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