BITTER MAGAZINE

Blog

  • Heirloom

    Heirloom

    —

    by

    Isabela Marino
    in

    “The uterus kicks, the timer is done, and now it is wailing for our mother.”

  • Doorways

    Doorways

    —

    by

    Daly Quintal
    in

    “The gentle smile had vanished, replaced by a frail, crooked imitation, and teary eyes, the same look from the portrait,”

  • Gnats

    Gnats

    —

    by

    Kat Mulligan
    in

    “Today, a nasty type achieved beauty in cotton pants, a birthday hat, and a tubercular sweat.”

  • Nightmares

    Nightmares

    —

    by

    Olivia Murphy-Major
    in

    “[…] she looks like a flower girl Sadie saw last summer at her aunt’s wedding; there is something so sombre about her and about that girl at the wedding too, and she wants to reach out and touch her, she doesn’t know why.”

  • If the Ocean is in Your Mouth

    If the Ocean is in Your Mouth

    —

    by

    Noah Sparrow
    in

    “If we look close enough, we will see that it is your skin that I am tasting, it is certainly not my own, not on top of everything else I have to hold;”

  • The Rabbit

    The Rabbit

    —

    by

    Erin Staley
    in

    “In this room, he is taught to hate, to carve, to examine minutely the details of another’s body laid bare.”

  • I Had Meant To Say

    I Had Meant To Say

    —

    by

    Magdalaina Teeuwsen
    in

    “The centre itself is the vapid, porous edge of each day Passing into itself into itself into itself,”

  • Emaciated Nightfall

    Emaciated Nightfall

    —

    by

    Kat Mulligan
    in

    “All the while, madness becomes bloated, and juts out from the soul.”

  • “Somebody needed to get shot over this,”

    “Somebody needed to get shot over this,”

    —

    by

    Mayan Godmaire
    in

    “Here is a yell that means I’m hungry. Here is an inheritance. Here is desperately filling every emptiness.”

  • Hanging Fire

    Hanging Fire

    —

    by

    Katherine O’Connor
    in

    “…whenever I see a woman of a certain age I can’t help but wonder whether or not she has children, thinking of my mother who has always looked exactly the same…”