[sic]

after Fall Out Boy, Derek Jarman, C.P. Cavafy, & Yves Klein. 

Will I need my eyes where I’m going? Surely I can adorn myself with this quilt before the moths of Ithaca beat me to it. One more night in Cavafy’s poem, the promise of destiny: fate, fated, fatal [facial], blind fate. I tire of this jolly, holy, whorey, voyage. I’ve learned & I long for paradise, haven’t I earned it? This martyrdom is prolific, we can’t all be saints, boys. Intentional audio artifacts juxtaposed with bells & chanting, screaming, crimes so bright blue it hurts to watch, a matte glow, humming stare of the CRT television. [sic] He tastes like you God, he tastes like you, he tastes bright button blue Distorted descendant of Alexander I'm gonna make you bend & break to see if our colors match. Denim frame for a canvas ass; chiming birds, copy machine guitar chord, genuflection sonnet, the sonnet is blue, I can see the jagged insides of him even without sight. This, the Julia Roberts of it all; acting like death is such a gift, a pretty package for the living. A discussion of needles. Symmetry of poisons. Out of my mind pulling him out of his clothes, ankles adored with belt buckle jewel. Jeans stained with cum & dyed delphinium. Draped sitter perfect. [sic] Dead good looking.  

ALEX VIGUE

Alex Vigue is a queer writer from Ridgefield, Washington. He has been recently published in Moss, Foglifter, and Icebreakers Lit. His debut chapbook, The Myth of Man, was published by Floating Bridge Press and his microchap, Lay Waste, by Ghost City Press.