1. theshortwavemystery:

    Hello Tumblr ppl I have a new short story, “Nonsense” on ELECTRIC CEREAL. Check it out . It takes place in a dystopian future where you have to pay to use your five senses like we pay for electricity and water today. It’s also relatively short and you’ll be glad since it’s pretty dark.


  2. Oddity by Stephen Michael McDowell

    "He’d dated and fucked and loved a few people. Had kissed them goodbye. Had moved through space like well-meaning oblivion. He’d come to see most myths as old forests. Most people as stalwart monotheists-of-self. He’d shared in confidence pictures of his dick. In public, his contorted face. On social media, his mangled thoughts. It had all been an unseen mirage of just some thing passing. Like fuel into exhaust. Like meat into sausage. Like food into shit. Séamus had wanted to fight things but was unsure what for. He’d concluded he was just the toroidal vortex the dolphin of his consciousness was absently bobbling. He’d wanted to love more. Love Marina, if possible."

    read story here


  3. Remember that Kanye ended his first album with a 12 minute song about everyone who passed on his record deal.




    Poetry by Kyla Bills

    i’m trying to match kanye’s self love

    undivided, attentive, uncircumstantial

    pure and unadulterated self confidence

    repeating “my life is dope, and i do dope shit”

    until i fall asleep

    Read More


  6. Today I Saw


    Today I saw a man’s big round ass in the jailer’s grip of too-small slacks. I walked behind him for a couple blocks, but he went inside a nicer apartment building than mine. I bet that when he took off his slacks, his ass sighed with relief, not knowing that it would be in for the same treatment tomorrow and the next day, and every business day until he retires.

    Today I saw a beautiful girl clog her toilet with her own hair. She tried to flush it after trimming her bangs, but the water began to rise, and we fled the room, laughing as though what we’d just done was play a really good joke on somebody and not willfully abandon a broken toilet that we’d both have to use for the rest of the night one way or another.

    Today I saw a fly drown in my orange juice. I saw its little fly nose leading it at warp speed towards my bottle, but I made no move to protect either fly or juice, and both were ruined, and the fly was killed.

    Today I saw a man buy five scratchcards with a tremendous amount of self-conscious dignity, with his hat in his hand, with old-fashioned suspenders holding his pants precariously high. He stood maybe two inches taller than me, but his back was much straighter, and he didn’t smile or respond when the cashier asked if he was feeling lucky. I think I liked him best of all.

    Today I saw only two dogs, no cats, more birds than I paid attention to, and a gutter rat.


  7. inamnesiac:

    Look my shit got published, hahh


  8. "Lal, Lalla, Lalishiri. Even if I never pray, I speak to you. Your voice is of a mermaid who only knew the desert. Lal, Lalla, Lalishiri. How many generations have ignored you? If you were a man, everyone would love you. But since you are a woman, I find you among the heavy geometry books, ripped, heavy, heavy, a meditative testosterone for the soul. Lal, Lalla, Lalishiri. You married at twelve and divorced at twenty-four. At that age I’ll be a mother, I promise you, Lal, Lalla, Lalishiri. I promise you, miswriting your name, that at that age I will not be divorced but that I will be married to my embarrassments and to my abandoned flowers. Lal, Lalla, Lalishiri. You say that the dead do not exist. What can I give you as tribute?"

  9. not yr fetish

    one eyelid up one eyelid down pushed in smile
    long legs short nails lips lips lips shudder
    you are that spider in my shower drain i can’t quite step on making jokes about my shampoo
    i am pulling punches out of my purse tonight & they are all for you or they would be i swear they would be if i wasn’t turning into a statue in this restaurant
    somebody ordered a skywriter or maybe it’s the clouds sending me a message like SORRY IT WORKED OUT THIS WAY WE WILL DO BETTER NEXT TIME but it’s too late for that

    by Isabelle Davis
    from Electric Cereal

  10. sarahjeanalex:

    If you can’t tell me how I’m supposed to feel
    when you smile into my eyes and
    I can sense it in my mouth and my stomach,
    then how do you expect me
    to ever trust this voice around you,
    trust this tongue under yours,
    trust my chest breathing against yours.

    The whole point of being alive is waiting to die,
    the whole point of discovering my body is to
    understand the many reasons it won’t last forever.


    yea, I’m ripping you off and buying red frames next time.

  11. Isabelle Davis has three pieces in Electric Cereal today. Here is one:

    Hot Snail Mail

    we will develop arthritis in our
    thumbs our eyes will stop seeing
    things that don’t glow you
    glow like that star i’ve been trying
    to land on but it’s on fire & i’m
    not a fighter my voice coughing
    under the pressure of telephone wires
    typed letters drifting in space
    get stopped by the nsa
    how many men in suits know
    i want you to fuck me in a swimming pool
    does the time apart make the moments
    together sweeter you’re sweet on my
    tongue when i’m home but when i’m not
    i write haikus in this
    journal you gave me think about
    sending them in pretty
    envelopes mostly they’re about
    making you come

    read more here

    and follow her on twitter


  12. This is my name

    I am so sick of leaving things in lowercase

    I am so sick of us who live our lives dreaming of retelling them

    I can’t stop thinking of how to adapt my life into film, of which angle would best capture me sitting here

    Has Woody Allen already used every jazz title I can think of playing behind my voiceover

    Will they make me change race

    If so, can my alter ego be black or asian

    I think I can work with that

    My heteronym is already Argentinian instead of Mexican

    Her last name rhymes with Bartleby

    She’s Jewish too


  13. i wonder if she knows that she’s the real thing

    i don’t even think of telling her because it wouldn’t mean a thing coming from me

    she is prolific

    but maybe that doesn’t mean as much in poetry

    does she write short stories?

    doesn’t matter

    people don’t even really read those anymore

    they don’t buy them at least

    junot’s book sold

    but the amazon numbers for moore and davis aren’t great

    one day we will all mention her by her first name because we will all know who we are talking about

    like Clarice

    google will know who

    but she has to write a novel first

    i don’t think she has even started yet

    but she will


  14. "a sunset after dark
    mint leaves growing through your ribs
    tongue too big to talk
    hills that groan with restlessness
    a smile from a stranger with a missing tooth
    eighteen ways to say i love you
    a million more to say i don’t
    breathing in sandstorms
    screaming through thunder to get your point across
    stranded on a desert island
    a prostitute in the bath
    swings growing old
    crop circles maybe
    a teacher with nothing to teach you
    a reflection you don’t recognise
    a day you have not felt
    hands so willing to care for your skin"
    — I Know I’m Alive, I Also Know There Is More (via ink-blues)

  15. ink-blues:

    my mom says im missing

    says i love wearing their clothes

    says im not true to the sky

    says i can’t eat breakfast on tuesdays

    says im late

    says im letting her go

    says my sandcastles are too small

    says my teeth don’t sit right.

    my mom says im missing,

    i listen to her talk,

    clutching myself, knowing my

    skin is here. my mom says im

    missing but she’s the one i can’t seem to find.