

ants carrying tiny organs, bits and pieces, livers lips arms gall bladders into the pall building something to seal away
Just last month, over two thousand viewers logged in to watch the live feed: four identical roads, crossing each other at this intersection and then branching out toward the different corners of the world like dirt-beaten tentacles.
“to those who fell…and those who are still falling.”
A wide range of artists from a variety of disciplines deliver sinister incantations.
The Tyrant Queen of Iron City presents us with a bouquet of petty grievances.
The freaked-out, bored, alienated observations of the Beautiful Boy looking out on his suburban purgatory.
An imminently depressing, short, contemplative piece of empty, alien-world-wandering SF.
An attempt to locate a distinctly feminine “non-tyranical monstrosity” in Ted K’s life and work