Content

Issue 14
1.

Little Opal
and…brunette….
Silken barmaid.
In an apple red dress carelessly
tossing and shivering her hair
into the windy gusts of a hand dryer,
hiding in the bathroom, feigning
a smile into the glance of a thousand
pissers pulling fastly by the
Rusted door. In your time of youth
did your nylons tear
As you exited the car door
Running
screaming
Into the haunting darkness and
Fog of an aching and hallowed
Cemetery, feeling the drunk of
A thousand
Novembers?
Be little next to
The paper and the sink,
Be aware there is nothing
Left to drink that
hasn’t burnt someones
Throat and nose before.
Cackle into the bright sunlight
creeping its perversion through
the cinderwalls at the bar,
Rub cigarette ash below your brow,
Be ungentle, un’womanly’, die outside
Yourself.