“She turned her head and looked up at the thin cracks in the ceiling. Her eyes traced the ruptures above them and Lizzie wondered what it might make it collapse. He turned his head and grabbed her face so her eyes would meet his, touched his nose to hers.”
DAT PUSSY Das Pussi your fertile crescent Pregnant chicks kissing the tory’s new poetry section Queering the normal AI… how is no one talking about that? the big beautiful BILL the big beautiful BBL how we are on a floating rock in the vast emptiness of the universe. Like, damn…really puts shit into perspective…
The Kalaniot (poppy anemone) is a potent symbol for both Israelis and Palestinians: its red, white, and black petals and green stem match the colors of the Palestinian flag, while in the winter it famously blankets the Otef Azah region of Israel, precisely where the October 7 massacres occurred. Both peoples have since used this…
We all want the melt of you the pulsing red ocean full of brine, combed by pearly topsail shimmers imagined to infinity but never really making slices, want to drive a four-fathom pike down and down and lose it on the way. Fathom comes from old english when it used to mean “embrace”…
“Some guy I must’ve known threw his hand over the glass to block me. He mouthed something I couldn’t hear, as if we were underwater, and tapped his finger on the side of the glass. Someone’s phone flashlight blinded me as it attempted to illuminate what was in it. Someone screeched.”
I The cell was a nightmare. It was loud and hot and small — twelve square meters, if that. In the days of the former government it had only ever held one or two inmates at a time, but now the enemies of the Taliban stood packed shoulder to shoulder, civilians and soldiers, protesters…
“For a moment, Allen just stared at the kettle. The room felt smaller, like the air had thickened. He thought of Ryan, of work, of losing the job, and the apartment, and everything else, and then looked back at the kettle’s bright little screen, now a meadow in the wind, calm, and endless.”
Do you ever feel like a plastic bag? A sheriff walks into a party for a noise complaint, without a word or a mask. As he reaches the party’s speaker setup, the music cuts out with a thump. “What’re you doing? Not here on rape charges? Didn’t really pan out for you did…
Zines are self-published magazines crafted from conjoining pages of paper into a miniature booklet, embellished with all sorts of mixed media throughout their pages. Magazine cutouts, paragraphs pulled from old books, paint, writing and/or stickers; whatever your heart desires, as long as it can be glued onto a page, it belongs in a zine. It’s…
“My perception of time is distinctly geometric: I trace the progression of years in counterclockwise circles that thicken like layers of pencil. I wish I could distinguish between them.”
Pick up a physical copy around campus, or view the full design here!
Medical genius: “If your eye got scooped out, wouldn’t it feel like getting kicked in the balls? ‘Cause, you know, they’re both dangling.” *Swinging gestures*
The doctor we all need: “Why would a testicle and an eyeball have the same nervous wiring?”