Visual Work

Written Word

"This is how it ends. Here, after such a grand celebration. He spent the night far
from the party. It wasn’t his scene. But Inan knew he was at a great moment to be alive.
And now, whatever, that distant joy was just curdled. It curdled and died right here,
right there with him. Oh god, he’s dying. It just hit him. "

"That one line reminds Sho’Goth of the last time he saw his parents in the same
place. The sun had hidden behind the moon, as it does on occasion. It was one of
Father’s favorite times to visit when a retrograde of choice wasn’t an option. Mother
finished the homing ritual a few nights before in Washington, and then all it took was a
little trip down to Ohio to see Father in rented flesh."

"The knight lets go of her jaw, shifting to kneel in front of the violated maiden. His
musk is the iron of his suit, rusted with blood. The maiden wants to shrink away into the
tower, to become one of its walls.
“You’ll be mine, yes? My love, my queen, my everything,” the knight’s mouth has
become a babbling brook, and he believed it to be poetry."

"Each who has died watched the same
training video, dealt with the same mediocre manager, the same weight downing their
shoulders from 9 am ‘till 5 pm. The machine you work for swallows you whole, taking
what remains, making it into oil. You accept your fate with worn-down muscles. You
can’t run. To care for the unfortunate is difficult when fatigue flushes it out of you. Oil is
thicker than blood. You get back to work."