By T.Y. Euliano Physiology, pharmacology, toxicology…kill-me-now-logy. First year of medical school finally over, Emily left Boston with a full brain, empty pockets, and a desperate need for salt air and decompression. Her parents still in Europe, she had the house…

By: Holly Day Every once in a while, I make the mistake of wondering what it’s all about, if there is any point if I really belong to this vast, blackness of universe if removing this one microscopic piece that’s…

By: Holly Day  The trees grow close to the old house, reach out with blossom-stippled limbs as if trying to remember. There are bodies buried beneath the layers of stucco and drywall, a skeleton built up of skeletons stolen from a…

By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick The voices are loud The voices are whispering, always present Racing thoughts, others pull up a seat Muddling the wires, recipe for obsession No peace No peace Never peace nor quiet Soothing music, sunshine upon the…

By: Indunil Madhusankha Nature is the life blood of all living beings on earth. All flora and fauna including us, the human beings are part and parcel of nature. According to Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia, nature refers to the set of…

By: Kara Roberts the slow lonely moments that drip by and drizzle like stampeding tar black and ugly. it’s a lanky sedated parade of disingenuous smiles barely rippling the surface of the ancient tongue-tied statue who can’t feel the grains of…

By: Edward Ahern There’s something about power That draws the worst of men, and puts their aberrations on magnified display. There’s something about supporters who vote for a defective yet claim to own what’s right, and cope in the surreal….

By: Edward Ahern I cannot force myself to fear a pleasant, sunny day, and yet that’s when most people kill people. Road rage, gang fights, bank robbery Car wrecks, drug deals, spousal slayings Suicides and matricides and random death. I…

By Gaither Stewart Some years ago an amusing satirical article in the Buenos Aires leftwing daily, Pagina 12, made me want to cry. In five thousand words the Argentinean journalist José Pablo Feinmann, ridiculed, among other things, the whole concept…

By Maria Agostina Biritos Blue. My world is filled with blue. His eyes. His All-American fairy-fucking-tale prince-charming blue eyes. And he is all mine. He is blond. Dirty glossy honey blond with sunny highlights. And he is all mine. Dreamy…