Reconciliation I

There is a computer sitting on a decaying cinderblock in the sub-sub-basement of the school. The computer has been running since 4:13 p.m. on Sunday, February 29th, 1994. The pixelated face of the first human you masturbated to floats in a purple void and stares at your creamy knuckles in horrific terror. You take a sip of your cold, flat root beer and let out a little burp. You slip your blood-sopped hand into the shredded pocket of your paint-spotted black jeans. You ask the disintegrating face what it’s been up to for the past eleven-thousand seven-hundred and thirty-nine days.

Reconciliation IV

The computer in the sub-sub-basement is a bone-dusted skin-machine of unquenchable carnal desire. It ingurgitates human oilflesh and vomits desiccated pellets of starbleached femur fragments into the corner of the toilet-free bathroom. Just before dawn each morning, as you lie naked atop your canopy bed on the roof, you slip a freshly-salted pellet into your mouth and wait for your blood-gummed body to glide through the dome of thick, convex glass hidden inside the earth.



Steve Gergley is the author of a bunch of books and a lot of weird writings of an indeterminate nature. His most recent book, There Are Some Floors Missing, was published by Bullshit Lit on February 20th, 2026. He’s also the editor of scaffold literary magazine.

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