I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love.

Justine Frischmann of Elastica in Select Magazine.

Red velvet lines the black box, Bela Lugosi’s dead

I used to think there was a God, that in the end everything would be all right, eternal sunshine. Today the sun is shining, everyone says how lovely it is and how we're going to have the best summer in years, but I feel sick, we're all sick - diseased is a better word to describe our state of mind and body in putting up with the filth around us.

a poem from gazan writer nadine murtaja featured in an edition of WAWOG’s “new york war crimes” in march. she dreams of becoming a dentist, though her schooling was interrupted by the current aggression and genocide.

please donate and share nadine’s campaign to evacuate herself and her family.

|Creatures of The Deep|