Is the taste of my bile. I hug the porcelain bowl, body heavy, anchored to the tile. My throat burns and no honey here to hold my head up while my stomach churns. The fever won’t quit It’s lonely and painful. I pass out and I drown in my own vomit.    

“Last Man to the Moon”

    The last man to the moon stayed behind to see the others off, every ten years, a new batch flown across the stars. Sixty years he waited, till the last Human was sent to Titan.     The last man to the moon prepared his pod, and waited for affirmation from the colony. A new life awaited […]