In the old gym, value revealed itself in nontraditional ways.
She decides that maybe being an object of consumption isn’t so bad. She even begins to enjoy the attention. Becomes aroused by the men’s overt enthusiasm for her. She is an edible woman, dolce, delectable; something to be devoured.
Spit flew from the man's mouth when he spoke, if he spoke.
I’m in the habit of befriending slightly older women. Maternal figures leading bohemian lives within suburban parameters. Seekers abandoned in childhood by dead(beat) moms. Motherless daughters can sniff out other motherless daughters. We wear our stale deprivation like a discontinued perfume.
There was a guy called PixelMoth13 on a late-night forum saying, “Love is a wound that repeatedly tears and stitches itself back together.” I clicked like.
When I got back to your room, my makeup gone, wet strands of hair sticking to my back,
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
"[Her Lesser Work] is a collection of mordant and formally inventive stories circling themes of, let’s say, desire and escape within repressive structures."
-Walker Caplan, Literary Hub
