Splonk, Issue 5

I’ll admit it. Some of the stuff I like most comes from writing prompts. This tiny piece (146 words) sprouted from a prompt to write something that feels like a dream. Something a little disjointed, a little weird, and with just a bit of truth.

Read “What Really Happens When I Sit Alone at Parties” in Issue 5 of splonk.

I plant a graveyard of feathers on my tongue. Watch them sprout into birds without wIngs.

From “What Really Happens When I Sit Alone At Parties” in Splonk! Issue 5