ISSUE 5.2
welcome
issue contents
> fiction
> nonfiction
> poetry
contributors
interviews
featured art
our editors
Drug Store Love Receipt
3331 Powelton Ave, Philadelphia, PA 19104
[Located near The Flesh,
right above The Heart.]
1-855-972-0826
– – – – – – – – – – –
“There I was, just another/
shit-bag civilian/ afraid
of the cops when I was outside/
afraid of my friends when
I was inside.”
–Drugs With Friends,
Car Seat Headrest
– – – – – – – – – – –
________________________________
________________________________
ITEM PRICE
(1) Awkward Shoulder Touch. .. .. .. 1.00
(2) Your Hair, My Caudal Plane, Shifting
An inch off the ends. You look like the sky, or an acidic blue day. No, thats just your thigh brushing mine. No, thats just whats crushed between your teeth. .. .. .. 3.25
(3) My Wrinkled Skirt.
We sit in the barley until police sirens guide our way home. And you can stumble up the stairs with words in your head,too big to be said out loud. Something about the clouds, or pennies, or what you’ll be now that you can’t be who you were. .. .. .. 4.25
(4) A Closed Hand.
You said it feels good. So I said I would give it a try. .. .. .. Free
Subtotal: Something Silver.
You see, you caught me with my head on fire, mouth gapped, tongue tangled around a torch you dipped in your stomach acid, Set aflame with my need to nurture. And yet. .. .. .. 9.50
Tax: Something Gold.
You can have your house keys back. They fit around my fingers like a wedding ring on a corpse. And the corpse is still swallowing pills. .. .. .. 0.67
Total:
We found your friend, The other night, when you told me about collapsed veins, little solar systems in your arms, Dying. He was passed out on chemicals, and you told me you still taste the bitter drip. But you love me, you love me, You. .. .. .. 10.17
Tip: __________
Total: ___________
Signature: _____________________
####
[THIS IS YOUR COPY]
[I keep mine hidden, in the drawer next to the
nail clippers and naloxone.]
———————————————————
**** SPECIAL OFFER ****
I take you to the place they heal.
The wired poison,
strange fluid in your head,
it dissolves over time.
You are less of a zombie now,
more alive in electric shock.
Though every time
Mucus passes your nasal canal,
I can feel the growth of
fine haired addiction
moving through your stomach.
I watch it lodge
Somewhere in your spine,
Or in the dips of your gut.
I’ve been staying up,
listening
for coughing
in your sleep.
Listening for the dislodge.
I sit there
telling you: cough it out,
please cough it out.
I make sure you’re still
breathing-
something.
****** 20% OFF *******
Thank you, come again soon!
