i’m obsessed with shoes.
there’s a door that opens with a whoosh and big cushy library chairs to sink your brain into. a cadaver’s leg, puckered yellow, astringent. i’m fascinated by his toenails. a difficult woman is my guide, her breasts removed, one by one, until she’s standing beside an IV pole, demanding attention. my slip is showing and … Read moretoo tight
dear alice, in a previous letter i’ve referred to you as a female jesus. i want you to know that i can’t help it. it’s strange to me that i do this. i mean, i’m not religious. and yet jesus routinely shows up in my writing. it’s a form of rebellion. i was raised in … Read moredear alice #3