by Darci Schummer

“I saw myself through your camera’s eye, felt again that acute density between us, and I catalogued everything that had vanished with you.”

by Mohsen Askari

“He thought of rhythm again—not productivity, not ambition, not even discipline, but rhythm. That elusive alignment between the inner world and the outer one.”

by Christie Page

“I don’t give a damn about feminist think-pieces claiming breasts don’t define womanhood. I don’t want to hear about empowerment, or how we’re supposed to transcend our bodies. I care about my truth.”

by Lamont Neal

“Their freedom came with caveats, legal, social, spiritual. They were the early recipients of discrimination in housing, employment, and marriage. The canaries in the coal mine. You have your freedom, now can you have your dignity?”

by Lydia Hyslop

“The last time I saw her, she was still living at home, every inch of her countertops cluttered, the air stale with the scent of grocery store fried chicken and ancient ashtrays.”

by Emma Atkins

“you catch sight of two black eyes – a quick slip of orange. The fox cub winks at you and ducks through a gap in the hedge. Fuck you, universe.”

by Hirço Orsetti

“At the worst of it, I begged vague deities for a few more years. I wanted to rub up against death’s leg like a slutty cat begging for detrital scraps.”

by Patrick Johnston

“A king cannot provide succour to his people without nipples. A king cannot rule with nipples…Well. Nipple me this… what the fuck was he doing with nipples in the first place?”

by Holly Carignan

“We saw ass cracks and bare dicks, cleaned shit smeared on bathroom walls. We all laughed and sighed our exasperations, told our stories.”

by Zary Fekete

“I think of that old feeling under the lake, of weeds around my ankle, of being pulled up into light. Maybe love isn’t about rescue after all. Maybe it’s about staying close enough to reach if they call.”

by Reg Darling

“What lingers in memory for me, beyond the scarification of grief, is “My bowl is empty! My bowl is empty!” Was that not poetry? Was that not art?”

by Isaac Russo

“Mankind may dream of Icarus until the wax is running down our backs, but a god with paper wings will always fall.”

by Trelainie Ito

“Boyfriend. I still hate that word. Ten years later, The Golden Compass resembles a memoir, containing the story of my developmental failing. Because the seventh grade is my forever-twilight and Tommy, my doom.”

by Basil Rosa

“I have my deaths, my chase scenes, bouts of paranoia and longing as I lament what I believe to be engineered forms of demise. I have my memories of a day’s work done.”

by Jack Coldicott

“…will we simply watch as the pendulum swings again, shifting beauty standards and offering new false promises, while the underlying struggle remains unchanged? Because to me, as a victim of the last cycle…we haven't learned a thing.”

by Kimberly Shaw

“Benzo demons lie dormant until ninety proof awakens them…”

by Aishwarya Kanchan

“Ever ordered a margarita with a twist? Tangy lime, your standard tequila, and a splash of smooth mead. That’s how I see Indian society—a blend that seems classic at first sip…Each sip, each moment, carries the weight of tradition used as a weapon. What’s celebrated as ‘flavor’ is, in truth, a bitter inheritance…”

by Aiden Butler

“I have a new theory. / Why not be happy while doing what you must?”

by Michelle Duke

“My mother made jewelry from Japanese paper, paper that mimicked the designs of fancy kimonos.“

by Luke Carter

“…no organism is built to witness horror and humour in the same five seconds, to scroll endlessly between catastrophe and distraction. Yet here we are, infinitely scrolling, mistaking exposure for empathy.”