Fiction and Poetry 3am Magazine Contact Links Submission
Guidelines     Travis Jeppesen  I just swallowed a bunch of
fresh mushrooms we bought at some headshop type place as fast as
I possibly could cos I knew if I had to taste them one more time
this week, I'd probably puke my guts out.  Now I'm writing this.
I'm hoping to get some work done, whatever 'work' is supposed to
mean nowadays, but I wouldn't mind some sort of sensual relief
for this stiff neck of mine. I obviously slept the wrong way on
this shitty bed in this shitty apartment we're renting in this
shitty canal house from that pigcunt American who thinks we're
retarded. But instead of going away, the stiffness is spreading
throughout my body. It'll eventually take over and I'll be left
a board or a corpse, at least. I can't ask Philip for a massage
because he's busy staring at something. I'm not sure what. He
took twice the dose I did, so I guess he's not in need of any
kind of external stimulation.  Suddenly, he sits up with this
mischievous smi