[thegoldhat; poetry] DO THE RIGHT THING IT AIN’T EASY BEING THERE’S SOMEONE OUT THERE WHO YOU HEAR HER SAYING INSIDE YOU FEEL NOT ONE MORE ALL YOU CAN DO IS BUT I DON’T KNOW IF YOU ARE PIECES OF LIKE EYES OF WALKING AWAY FROM THE THE WORLD IS A IT LASTS A MILLION I DID THE RIGHT

[thegoldhat; flash fiction] In that dream, I appeared suddenly in the middle of a wide avenue. Bangs of light were going off around me, starting little fires everywhere that smoked and fizzled. Many, many people were moving past me, some running, some hobbling. A boy leapt onto a car and…

[goldhat; poetry] It starts beneath your feet. Everyone thinks it’s in the center, but it’s not. Then it rises. Already you can feel the burning. You’re restless, you stamp your legs. It will be alright, you mutter. You try to stop your stomach’s fainting. When it’s at your heart, it all inverts. Breathing comes so fast, even the pain numbs. You close your eyes. Try to imagine a clean sheet, you think. Make your body float, be pure. By the time it’s around your neck, you know. Disease is a loneliness. Other people flee before you. Not what you contract, but what you are. It’s contagious in tears. You know it without seeing: the truth infects you.

[goldhat; fiction] My therapist had said he would drive. In shock at the unexpectedness of the offer, I had accepted in shock, but once I had a chance to think it through, I was now wondering about the prudence of the decision. “Is this really OK?” I asked. “Isn’t there…

[thegoldhat; flash fiction] — A few months later, long after I had ceased visiting the therapist, I had a final dream. As far as I could tell, nothing had set it off, except for maybe a glass of whisky before bed. Dinner was peaceful. I hadn't fought with my wife, or been stressed about…

[goldhat; fiction] “I wanted to go over something today that’s not a dream,” I asked the therapist. “If that’s alright.” “That’s fine,” he said. “What did you have in mind?” “It’s a memory. From something that happened several years ago.” “What made you want to talk about this today? …

[goldhat; poetry] [raw text] October She said it was the time of ghosts and witches. I remember that month. The chill came from the north. Eyes watched you. It wasn’t just the two of us, you said. The familiar always came at the call. Little rat tails, little cat ears. Your midnight sabbath had its potions, sweet and sick. I knew you could wreak spells: you knew I knew. The pitch night was a long drizzling dream.

[goldhat; fiction] I had another dream. I was walking down the street, about an hour past midnight, when the last cars had driven through and no life would be visible again until the street cleaners arrived early the next morning. There was a light drizzle, so my suit was by…

[gold hat: poetry] I walk slowly. The swamp shifts in shades, light — I close my eyes. Oil drips down my arm into stinky silt. Vapor drapes off my skin. If I don’t move at all, all is quiet, (except I open my eyes. My breath is noxious. Swamp. My body is a swamp. It goes on and on, sinks for miles until nothing feels. I am decomposing.