I was giving hunting tips to an old buddy. Told him it’s better to wear something thick, a leather jacket works fine. They scratch viciously. Some even bite. One almost got my eye once.

You’ve got to pin them down quick. Let them wear themselves out. They scream, sure, but that doesn’t last. Eventually, they just lie there. Breathing hard. Staring up. Accepting their fate.

That’s when it gets easier. That’s when the real fun begins.

And when you’re done, slit their throat.
We don’t want any loose ends.

-

When they pulled her body from the lake, her skin was puckered like rotting fruit, hair snarled with weeds, lips bloated and blue.

Her father didn’t flinch. Just sighed.

He’d already buried her. A couple dozen times before.

And tomorrow, he knew, she’d be back in the creek, bloated, with the same faint outline of a smile.

He shouldn’t have drowned her.

-

My happiness these days
feels like an expensive dinner set
too delicate for everyday,
tucked away in a locked cabinet,
collecting dust,
waiting for an occasion
that never comes.

-

“Daddy’s on TV!” she squealed, dragging me from the kitchen.

There he was on the jumbotron, arm wrapped around a young blonde, laughing like the last twelve years never happened.
The popcorn bowl slipped from my hands. I stared, numb.

The room went silent, except for my daughter’s giggling.
“Mom... Daddy’s alive.”

Surely, he didn’t look like a man who died two years ago.
Just one who made sure we believed he had.

-

I saw regret
wearing my face,
living a life
I could not replace.
It spoke the feelings
I always hid,
and loved the way
I never did.

-

life is but
a long to-do list
and death
is when you stop pretending
any of it mattered

-

“Are you enjoying the show, honey?” she purred, letting her blouse slip from her shoulders, revealing lace that barely clung to her skin.

I followed her gaze to the man tied to the chair, gagged, eyes wide with terror.

He tried to look away. She didn’t let him.

I hesitated. Then, as she gestured, I grinned too eagerly and began unbuckling my belt.

-

Like a Stray

I’ve taught my insecurities to behave.
They know their place now
silent in the corners,
hiding behind vases and curtain folds,
careful not to breathe too loud
in case she notices.

She never liked them.
Said they made the place feel smaller,
cluttered, anxious.
So I taught them to shrink,
to sit still like strays
that know they aren’t wanted
but stay anyway.

-

An Eulogy to Self

The hardest part of growing up
is realising the boy who began the journey
isn’t the one walking it anymore.

I’ve buried so many versions of myself
I’ve lost track of the original.

Some drowned in silence.
Some were killed just to be likable.
Others starved, waiting to be loved.

Now when people leave,
I don’t flinch.

I’ve attended my own funeral
too many times
to cry at anyone else’s.

-

He waited until she stepped out of the bathroom, water still dripping from her hair. Once she was gone, he slipped in quietly, heart pounding.

Kneeling by the laundry basket, he sifted through damp, crumpled clothes, his fingers slow and deliberate, until he found what he was looking for: a red panty.

He brought it to his face, inhaled deeply, and began pulling his pants down.

The door creaked open behind him.

He froze.

She stood at the doorway, towel clutched to her chest, eyes wide.

“What the...?” she gasped. “Bhai...?” Her voice trembled.

-