My Cardboard Balcony

Instead of the usual introspection or throwaway guttural noises in textual form, allow me to share an observation: When I look at the stretch marks on my belly, and I have gained some weight during the pandemic, they sort of look like two hands both flipping the bird in an abstract way. Because fuck your beauty standards. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Autofill (Again) by Belinda Roddie I can't believe you've done this. I can't imagine a world with you gone. I can't comprehend anything. I can't explain how I'm feeling. I can't tell you why. I can't say goodbye to say. I can't think straight. I can't I can't I can't

Remember This by Belinda Roddie Black history is not just one month. It's all year.

When We Were Younger by Belinda Roddie When we were younger, we sat on the hill just outside town, drinking ourselves, hand in hand by sundown, eyes as red as pills, we told the stories of ancestors grand and heritage so lofty that we thought, truly, that we were royalty. That was not quite the case, but six packs that we bought with stolen money gave us quite the buzz and made us strut about like kings, all bright with love, yet dim with burdens, and as hot steam dissipated, so did appetite, and our hunger for glory was soon caught in webs of obligations. While still young, we haven't quite got stories on our tongues.

Bliss by Belinda Roddie When your tea's the perfect temperature on the first sip.

English Class by Belinda Roddie As the story ended, we questioned why the murdered son cried out for his mother. The ever witty student replied, "Are you sure he just wasn't able to finish his curse?"

Discount by Belinda Roddie Found a shopping cart in the river. So many skulls.