Ground Unicorn Horn

What do you want? What do you need? You cool with just, y’know, hanging out and stuff? Who wants to be young anymore, right? Remember how pissed you’d get back then? Remember how that felt? How it burned your gut and made you feel tense and shaky and… alive? Remember how fucking ENRAGED you’d get about the things you believed in? How you could talk for hours and you really, I mean really, believed anger could be used as leverage, as a tool? Who wants to believe in anything? Who wants to be young anymore? Not you, that’s for damn sure. Music? Like listening to music? Sure you do. What’s your music say? What does it make you feel? Ever snorted ground unicorn horn and seen visions of cavemen and anti-intellectual dick waving and kingdoms of rats? Ever been inside the mothership’s computer while a nasty—downright vicious—fucking virus shagged ass through the mainframe ‘fore the thing went up like a goddamn torch? (And god, it lit the skies for days.) Ever walked into the sun and felt your face melt onto your T-shirt? Never been to the sun? Never been anywhere? Where you been all your life? The “experts” murmur: Nowhere. Nowhere. Nowhere.

Chuck Rowell
Chris Hathwell
Amy Szychowski
Justin Pearson


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