Christopher Harrison is a Canadian/American writer and undergraduate student at Concordia University in Montreal. His work has appeared in Legacy Magazine.
You performed one last night, crying , then cackling.
Stretched skin flaps at acute angles tacked to barstools and flat tables.
I do today with organs hanging sloppy.
T-pins clatter, sagging guts drag on office floor planks.
Talking dust bunnies tickle exposed nerve endings: radiant pattern of agony spasms.
… positing wet messes …
... monster face froze stark in lazy pain mask awareness ...
Later, I'll stitch me up in zig-zags and be a zombie maybe.
Uglier than the effigy you chucked like perished victuals. Ha.
a vignette in ten lines from bad novels
I was first taught French lovemaking techniques in Borneo by a windowed countess with a shabby, regal air.
"I've never cut or polished a diamond in my life," said the sere-mouthed lapidary. "I make diamonds."
"L'amour a des dedommagements que l'aminite n'a pas." --Michel de Montaigne
The self, it would seem, is not a static entity but a dynamic process of interconnected relationships.
And that's why I'm so unhappy.
Millions of iterations later, he thought he realized God.
She could never love him because he was change and change is nothing.
And they fell into an awkward kiss, their tongues initiating a cryptographic handshake under the dull and hanging wires that connect us all.