I wipe you from my nostrils like cocaine, but your powder still resides in my cracked lips. My mouth is dry without your substance. My skin flares
in hives against yours. I need you like bruises.
Every cut on your arm bleeds like mouthwash. Irregular stripes and polka dot burns on your skin are a highway against my finger tips. I float in the air with your touch like there’s a Helter Skelter spiraling around my neck.
Good morning, whiskey. I didn’t have my heart pills today and now I can’t stop swallowing
you like detergent.
Zachery Rahn is a Writing & Linguistics major and Film Studies minor. He loves to read and watch horror books and movies. He has two dogs, Bella and Minnie, and enjoys playing tennis with his friends. He loves going to restaurants, shopping, and visiting theme parks when he has free time.
Miscellany Editor Christina McKinley is a sophomore writing and linguistics major. She comes from Richmond Hill, Georgia and a mixed Filipino-American background. In her spare time, she likes to spend time with friends, write and procrastinate. She is an aspiring professional fiction writer and novelist.