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My Nightmare is an MRI I’m paralyzed, lying on a surgery table, my head resting on a meat slicer. Who uses a meat slicer for surgery? My teeth rattle, my skull vibrates. It's an earthquake, an apocalyptic firestorm, buzzing locusts burning inside my mouth. The surgeon cuts my head into deli-meat, holding up the slices of my brain to a camera. A speaker nearby crackles to life: “Denied.” My blood is cold as it drips down my neck. Earthquakes. Fire. Is the surgeon smiling as s

It’s All in Your Head Kintsugi: Death's Consent #3 Is something wrong with my mind? I follow the doctor’s pen left and right. “And... who’s the president?” she asks. I answer. My heart is pounding, throat dry, hands shaking. Will she believe something is wrong? She shrugs: “If you can look left and right, and you know who the president is; you don’t have brain damage.” “I feel fuzzy,” I say. “Weird, floating brain feeling.” “Any drug use?” it’s more an accusation than a

To see how it all got started, visit my Instagram page's reels section for the budding story. So, what's this all about? The projects...