Oh boy blood runs thick as words over at the official organ of the Paradox Creed of Discord Victorious. Like a drying accident poetry seeps over pages of organ-busting inchoate stupidity drudgery blistering swollen sores scab over until the next pitiful wounding nothing to read nothing you’d want to read “Or,” as featured poet Hans Christian Connor writes, “fuck a cellmate’s sore and swollen arse/to forget the cycle of sameness/That is reality.”
zine / #7 / main creators: the Paradox Creed of Discord Victorious / $1 / 706-188 Spadina Ave., Toronto, ON, M5T 3A4