You know, sometimes the weirdest shit just falls out of your mouth. I was on a date a few months back. The usual dance. Small bites, a couple of drinks.

Is it happiness we’re all supposed to be searching for? I look around this town, this armpit called Tucson, and it seems a little less polished here, a little less

There’s this scene I remember. A young girl, all fresh and full of questions, in the back of a convertible. The wind is whipping through her hair. She’s sitting next

Fifty-six years. You spend that long looking in the mirror, you watch the goddamn show in reverse. The body starts to rot, and the mind, it just gets sharper, meaner.

I found myself sitting there, soaking it in. This positive, feel-good message, dripping like honey from the lips of this delicate flower who had her whole goddamn life figured out.

I saw the psychic today. Mr. Tony. But before I even sat down in his little office, the day had already taken a shit on me. A long, ugly drive

Poly Poly There was this woman in Hawaii. I used to call her my Poly Girl, a cheap label for something I didn’t understand. Looking back now, after all the

It’s 3 a.m. You’re in the bathroom again. Not sick, not drunk—just unraveling. Pulling at your own damn hair in silence, because even your soul’s tired of hearing the sound

Yesterday, I was in some piss-soaked public bathroom—one of those places that smells like regret and bleach—draining my soul into a urinal. Mid-stream, I saw this mark inside the bowl.