Fiction

Millennial Rx by Rebeka Singer — Video Still by Stasja Voluti

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Millennial Rx

by Rebeka Singer

 
 

"Untitled Still of Video Poem Project", Copyright © 2015 Stasja Voluti

“Untitled Still of Video Poem Project”, Copyright © 2015 Stasja Voluti

 
 

Here’s my soul. I’m giving it to you. Do you want it? Will you take it? I don’t care for it much anymore. My soul never gave me much. And now here it is: I’ll curse it out. “Every inch of my tar black soul,” Lana sings. That’s mine. Thank you, Lana, for making tar black souls sound soulful.

 

I watch a Harry Potter film each night, sometimes two in a row, either the same, or two separate films in the series. I drink champagne and pop Xanax to numb the fear that I might actually be alone, or, worse, I might actually need to be alone.
See, I want to be in love—with my boyfriend or ex-boyfriend, he never really can decide his status, or my ex-husband, whom I left for my phantasm of a boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. Never can tell. Can’t tell much. Wish I could say, “Can’t tell me nothing” like Kanye West. An ex-friend text me the other day: “Don’t parade your life around Facebook like Kanye West. You’re not a rich, famous rapper— yet.” That’s not verbatim.

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Home for Christmas, 1975 by Ron Kolm

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Home for Christmas, 1975

by Ron Kolm

 
 

Illustration Copyright © 2014 Dan Freeman

Illustration Copyright © 2014 Dan Freeman

 
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Prince Picnic by Clint Burnham

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Prince Picnic
 
 
I told my father, I said, I am going to be a musician. He say magician no good. I say, why you magician no good?
 
Magician be gay. Woman be gay. Man be gay. Everything be gay.
 
He say you will I say how you think that. I am disappointed in you. What do you think you raised? How did you raise? You raised me. How can you think magic will make me not your son? Read more

Cutter Love by Shannon Barber

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Cutter Love

by Shannon Barber

 

 

Take the blade.
 
Her voice is smooth almost a monotone and the handle of her blade is cool against my sweating palm.
 
She watches me — my eyes directed to the left of the thing in my hand. I don’t tremble but my eyes shake.
 
I am so afraid.
 
Look at it. She doesn’t speak but I hear the command.
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Arrested Sex by Jacob Futhey

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Arrested Sex

by Jacob Futhey

 
 

"CJSR Session: IV", Copyright © 2014 Devin McCawley

“CJSR Session: IV”, Copyright © 2014 Devin McCawley

 
 

I threw on jeans, buttoned up a shirt, and crept towards the door. The T.V. was blaring from the living room. My mom saw me from the couch, a cloud of smoke hung over her, “What the hell are you doing?”
 
“Liz from high school invited me out, it’s her birthday.”
 
She came shuffling towards the door; her robe half-open, exposing a constellation of moles and blotches, “You don’t need to be worrying about girls.”
 
“Mom please. She’s a lesbian. I’m just going to say hi. Maybe have a few laughs.” Liz always had sexually promiscuous friends around and I needed to prove my dick still worked.
 
Her hands perched on her hips showing more stars, “You don’t need to go out with anyone, even if they are lesbians.” I had been home almost a month after dropping out of college after a year and a half. Read more