After being fucked beyond hell on my deathday, I decide to cultivate my qi. To keep one's guard down all the time is a childish fantasy. Life is movement. Yes, the world makes everyone crazy. And for reasons we aren't able to comprehend and I reckon aren't supposed to. Grace comes in when it can't possibly be worse to inhabit than one's own imagination. Every moth is the God-Moth. Is the snake wrong for being what it is?

SPIRES Your mind is a lake The wind is cool and gentle Change courses through me

The “Alt-Right” ended the second Elena Velez unfollowed me, an event I took in my stride due to my ability to slow my heart rate down to such a low number that I am able to have surgery performed on me without the aid of anesthetic (a skill Marlon Brando taught me after I sucked his wooden cock). Now, if I told you I put Pariah the Doll in Man’s World Magazine, I’d allow you an 8-second head start before I tried to kill you. Anyone who emails me about this poem WILL hear from

Lizard...ram...snail crab snake Etched into stone Committed to mind Congealed primordial broth Baked evolutionary cake Slither from sea To land on a dream A flipper to foot Earn a useless degree A spiral of horn The flicking of tongue A venomous bite An architectural delight Nucleotidal wave Snail crab snake Lizard...ram... Snail crab snake Artificial selection The miracle Of the spiracle And an eye Within the eye Irridescent confection Rock-candy wing Sweet phylogeny Juras

dumbstruck in the bardo enumerated lessons absent of all touch press now dumplings with a limestone tourniquet loman through the bellows sunshade on the mountain unincumbent mistles atop a stringing tire wire turning loosened window lace neon icicle attack display strips of famous layers insignia surface, dull retreat loosened April of my levers micron surface touch display the motive implied in the maple stretch of trees accosted I bend sideward delinquent tremors lemon

they put chibi eyes on a nuke. they proved the hyperobject can wear a hatsune miku wig and jerked off to it. it. fumbling for selfhood unhooking the straps of sodality the senior engineer is a furry. 16:9 cinematic impregnated jet show her blushing for research purposes my friend in this version of dr. strangelove you will be vored by a computer voluntarily even the virgin mary was mother and child jesus wept at gethsemane alone then killed himself. himself. ________

________ Asher Bentley is a writer and director, frequently working under the moniker of Dead Homes. His work delves into his predominantly digital upbringing and the sterility of contemporary relationships. He has been published in Spectra and Burial Magazine, and is also really funny and charming. Asher Bentley is on X @pregnantcop and Instagram @asherhilarious asherforever.com

I will never be your veteran If I held you in my arms 10,000 Vietnams Would ambush your body

I saw the iconic photo of her I DM’d the 🥵 emoji she followed me I was happy I sent her my poetry she unfollowed me I was sad she refollowed me she even liked a tweet I was happy ________ Oliver Land is an English writer with work published in Hobart Pulp , Expat Press , A Thin Slice of Anxiety , Be About It Press , and Spectra Poets. “Ginger Jones” is the opening poem from his forthcoming collection White Light Fades (Plague Circus Press, April 2026). Oliver Land is on X

Only Human Mylk Did you know this would happen? You asked mid thrust and I replied, No bc I’m actually in my virgin era And you wanted to know what that meant And I told you that meant I was consciously celibate And it was true It was true when you sent your new address and I rubbed my still damp skin with Only Human Mylk de Parfum and jumped in an Uber when a walk could’ve sufficed It was true when I decided I didn’t want to ever be touched again and then met eyes with yo