The Indicator



a digital art piece of a vogue cover with a laughing, bloody person in front

Featured Fiction

I took a deep inhale, as my head tilted towards the sky, as I felt His hands on my shoulder and breath on my ear, perfect, He said, I know that you can make it perfect. He uttered my name. I shuddered, embodying the praise, receiving it in my mind, my soul.

His words pushed me towards the door.

Art Gallery

Featured Poem

all the times i let my teeth ferment in my spit without brushing before bed,
the bits scabbed over by fiber, in neat pairs…
separate under skin, i’ve never used a nutcracker,
i break my own jaw

a collage of pieces within colored circles that radiate outwards

Full Issues