From the Screen – A Tripadi

she smiled at me from the screen and it was the warmest i’d been for the longest time i could remember didn’t know her name just her face from movies i’d seen at my place watching alone filling this intense need lying there lying to myself believing her gaze is heartfelt knowing all along she…

Deadbolt Diary 2

Music plays from the corner of the room. The window, cracked, allows the chill to seep in, crawling to me from sill to floor. It lunges, unseen, in widening bounds, descending upon me as I lie suspended in a cocoon of varied fabrics. The roar of the furnace erupts in intervals, combatting the vicious cold….

Deadbolt Diary

The yellow tint of the cool morning sun bleeds through the plated shades of my sliding glass door this December morning. A sense of nauseousness refuses to lift, blending with an anxiousness from the past five days. I apply five cups of french pressed coffee to the sick, making it worse. I want to vomit….

Updates and Thoughts

Hi everyone that follows me so far. Recent events have affected my output regularity and stunted my creativity a bit. I’m hoping to get back on a more stable schedule soon and am considering adding a bit more variety to the content I put out. I’m curious if there’s anything anyone would like to see…

Old Wounds Pt. 1

I met her on a dating app, finally reserved to seeking conversation in place of sex. The tedious, critical process of selectively swiping on potential partners reduced to a mindless exercise, apathetically thumbing through profiles while never glancing down at the screen. This had become habitual, more impulse than directed action. Running out of potential…

Riding the Rails on the Edge of Night

As night encroaches on lonesome suburbia, I prepare to meet it. Placing all things in order, I head to the cabinet drawing forth a bottle, still half full, of sweet, fragrant cognac to nurse the edge of a passing day. Uncorking the spiced elixir, I pour it into a cheap snifter, returning the bottle to…

That Spark

Another restless night. Bare and uncovered in the darkness I listen to the hum of whirring motors that fill the void with mechanical life. Outside, street lamps give off a dull yellow glow. I picture them, imperfect, tilted in the ground, left by some worker who figured the task completed well enough. My central air…