by Corey Zeller
I’ve seen their chain mail rattling
You can’t use the internet when you’re dead because you are the internet. You forward yourself. You share and like your status which is void, an absence, the undersides of bridges, teething. You are frigid in your enormity. You cause ruptures, ads. You are selling the living more living. You are causing an ache that is quieter than continuum, than drinking decaf, corrosive and swallowed where you thought a river was. What was there, though, fell like a fixed fight. The ring was blood-soaked, made of blood, it spilled. Yet there … Read the rest