Surrealist Daulton Dickey lives with his wife, kids, and pet human-lizard hybrid in a universe he created. He’s the author of Elegiac Machinations,Bastard Virtues, Flesh Made World, and Dig the Meat Music (forthcoming from Nihilism Revised) Contact him at lostitfunhouse [at] gmail [dot] com
It always rains ashes when the city’s on fire. Another weekend when the sky’s falling. Someone somewhere screams. Standing in a dark room, I wrap my fingers around my lower teeth, yank my hand to distend my jaw, and scream.
The smell of sulphur fills the air and threatens to gag me, but I keep pulling down on my jaw, screaming.
Darkness no longer soothes me. It’s artificial—the absence of light, not the absence of everything.