3:AM Magazine

i said i want to see your face

you said i hate you

you said so much

i said i want to move into the internet

you said lets do that

i said where do you go in

i asked if it had sun chips

By Brandon Scott Gorrell.

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Tiny kittens vomiting embalming fluid

in my veins doesn’t make sense

but it’s okay

A walrus fang stabbing my heart

doesn’t make sense

By Chris Moran.

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the drunk people ran away and grunted

and said something about a frat house

and then date raped

and the ice cream cone deer nodded

By Mallory Coppenrath.

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People never kill with their hands anymore

why is that? He just collapsed

He wasn’t sitting too close to the computer screen

or standing in front of the microwave or anything like that

he was just leaning into the sink brushing his teeth

By Kathyrn Regina.

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i could probably get done what i do on the internet each day
in a total of 45 minutes not counting my email checking
but somehow it stretches over a 6-8 hour period.
i do not go out very often
unless there is something specifically interesting to do
though there is not often something specifically interesting to do

By Blake Butler.

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>When I was eighteen years old, twelve people had trees fall on them outside of my dorm window, and they all died, some of them were also eighteen, and I woke up and looked out my window and they were all dead and I went back to sleep.

By Gene Morgan.

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I was back,
badder than ever,
to take out the trash;
to kick ass and chew beef jerky,

and I was all outta beef jerky.

By Jack Morgan.

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I can feel
her body
pressed tightly
against mine
as our hips
come together;
rubbing and
gyrating –
genitalia now
alive,
thriving
with a life of
its own.

By Matthew Coleman.

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Faith finds its best home in others. Too much in yourself, there’s trouble. I’m looking for work right now. Can’t find any. Not how I want it, anyhow. I ain’t shy-twelve hours today, mundane as hell, serving people who don’t even realise they’re being served. I quit one system three years ago only to find myself in another. And graduated out a there, only other systems waiting for me to fall back in. Guess that’s why I’m by the window, having folk heroes tell me stories.

By Glenn Fisher.

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That night I dreamt she came home with no belly, no you. Her stomach was flat like before when I used to push the round of my fatness into last year’s tiny pants. The waistband left a red line around my middle like I’d been cut in two. I was always growing and she stayed the same, except for you babies. In the dream she held a rock the size of a grownup’s fist and said it was what she had carried inside. Sans baby she seemed more content.

By Elizabeth J. Colen.

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