tumbleweed

KILLJOYS IS GOOD LUCK

KILL EM ALL 2019

I AM RAY GUN

I brought you my BLUE HAIR you brought me your PRONOUNS

three cheers for VACCINES

the PRIDE parade

“olfactory memory: referring to the recollection of smells.”

[ID: a three page comic in a limited colour palette of black, white, purple, and yellow:

an unnamed killjoy lights a cigarette with a matchstick, leaving smoke trails. the girl, slightly older than in the music videos, turns to face them and says “hey. ya mind puttin’ that out?” the killjoy raises their eyebrows and replies “sheesh, ya got somethin’ against nic-sticks or what?”

a close-up of the girl’s mouth — she pauses, then says “…nah.” her speech bubble trails off into clouds of smoke, weaving through several objects: a revving motorcycle, a laser gun, bound sticks of dynamite, and, finally, a familiar hand holding a cigarette aloft, clad in a fingerless glove and string of bad luck beads.

death is a postal worker,

and my soul is labelled:

fragile, handle with care.

she collects me from the mailbox,

holds me, briefly.

I am hers, briefly.