Fire in my stomach
Too late for 2 nights
It’s too late
For 2 nights
This site is here to celebrate things that I or others truly love in the zine, self-publishing and small press world.
We aim to delve into what we love and why, whether it’s people or styles; pages, pictures or panels; storylines or drawing lines this is about describing what we find awesome.
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Of value with the line I broke my back bending a hundred and 99 degrees left to bake the fake? The most. From why. To when. To then to now I am still at square one with ‘wait, back up, what happened?” Fuck poems and songs and art to be left for me muddle my whimper this is pain that causes me to want to die just a little more
Forced into position
To bury my hearts incision
Numb words dumb, from a
Point I look above to for an explanation
From that vagrant vague sky bound
Boundaries all of a sudden all the time
My stomach from being keeled over I
Cant comply with this least common
Denomination of nothing I can stop
From hurting and this is what’s going
To kill me she said and looked through
Me to them and left one day you just
Left you just left the one promise made
And sworn to be kept was not made yet
With and I continue with one word to
Add- and, and and- never ending sting
The second I open my eyes transitioning
From dream to this nightmare I’m now
Living with in my bed where you were
Is where ghosts now rehearse their
Torment. How can I hate and miss you
So badly? I’m carrying on so sadly and
Would like to stop merely but I’m
Still cleaning your hair you chopped
And the pills you threw after
Swallowing most. Then shes a ghost.
Were you real a dream a reminder of
The best I had and now will have
Always hadn’t fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You hurt me.