Purge by Nicholas Osborne

Forgot all about this one. Oops!

A Globe Divergent Literary Collective

purgeinside me thrives a wild need
stretching—twisting its shoulders

a malignant fetus, in utero
sired by seed from the
ravenous vacuum of deep space
a gifted thing with unending hunger

hot pangs that rake at my guts—
cigarette cherries gently teasing the
softest walls of my organs

they beg me to loosen and leave
to smoke me out, until all that
remains is the pleasant and echoing


drained of yolk, but hollow-intact
like a blue-spotted robin’s egg—
a boon to the eye and fingertip but
at heart just a porous façade

its zygote, a decaying mucous drip
dangling low and gelatinous to
bring feast for the blue-bottles

I want to blow away with the wind
or fade away under blankets as I dream
or be elevated to heaven or dragged down
to hell—if we believe in the stories

maybe reincarnate as a cancer cell
and spend my hours dividing…

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blu-tac-lois e. linkens

Stunning work from the pen (or keyboard) of Lois E. Linkens. Seriously.

A Globe Divergent Literary Collective

i will wipe your lipstick from the glass,

scrub the rings

off the coffee table,

and throw out the toothbrush and its plastic mug,

that sat

balanced on the sink

like a rock

on a cliffside

as if it paid rent.

you always knocked it off,

with your baggy sleeves –

you’d wet your hair

when you rinsed your mouth.

it was cold when you kissed me.

i will take your photo out of its frame,

and move your letters from the drawer.

i want to leave your diary by the bed –

if you visit, you could leave me a note,

if you wanted.

every day i have checked –

but the pages still are empty.

i will throw it out.


i will leave

the little knob of sticky tack

stuck above your desk

by the picture of bowie,

your fingerprint engraved

in the soft dip

pressed on…

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Interview and Review of S.K. Nicholas’ New Novel: A Journal for Damned Lovers

A tremendously praiseworthy review of some tremendously praiseworthy prose by S.K. Nicholas.

A Globe Divergent Literary Collective


Review of A Journal for Damned Lovers by S.K. Nicholas/By Jasper Kerkau

One of the first pieces I wrote for Sudden Denouement was called, “Writing isn’t Going to Save Me.” Over time I have changed my perspective on this; I realize that writing is absolutely necessary to my survival. It is what gets me through all the dark days, the clouds hovering over me as I try to find my place in the universe. Writing is the ointment for my soul, the salve for a heart tarnished by the cold hands of fate. I devour words and regurgitate them in a fury that cannot be contained. I now understand that writing will eventually save me, though it may take a while.

When I started to blog I wanted to write long-winded, Menckenesque social criticism that put my friends to sleep and, of course, failed to find an audience. My works…

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Thoughts 9/29/16

The bulk of my life approaches as a great white wall, or a gaping black chasm. I can’t tell which. I can’t tell whether the future brings the end or just a new beginning—or maybe both. All I know right now is that things are going to change. They already have. I already have.

I’ve lost most everything I’ve held close: people, possessions, employment, respect. The list of things to lose grows shorter and shorter daily. I’m left with precious few ideals, and I cling to them as if my life depends on it. Because my life does depend on it.

The only two things that I am certain I possess anymore are love and forgiveness. I only own them because I have kept them, nurtured them. Experiences change us, but we do have the power to choose in what ways we become changed. I choose to love; I choose to forgive.

I’m not naïve enough to believe that my love and my forgiveness are reciprocated by those who are dearest to my heart. They who were once a large slice of my life have recently become distant, either by choice or by circumstance. I assume the worst. I assume that they neither care for nor think of me at all—they might even hate me. Still, that doesn’t influence my choice. I choose to love and to forgive. Those are both mine to give, and I decide who I am.

For now, my love is keeping me alive. That isn’t a figurative statement. In fact, most days, it is the only thing that keeps me breathing. I may never know if others truly love or care for me. That is a simple fact. The immediate future is uncertain, but I remain. I remain in love. I hope that it is enough. Time will tell.