folding

News: Here is un­cen­sored footage of ac­tu­al peo­ple be­ing blown up by a bomb.

News: And here’s Kathy Grif­fin with the fake bloody mask blurred out for your emo­tion­al well being.

And

I just want a quick sit down with the men in my on­line life.

I have a fold­ing bike. That doesn’t mean I want to talk to your kind. A LOT OF YOU SEEM TO THINK THIS. And you know, it def­i­nite­ly doesn’t can­cel out the head­phones in my ears play­ing so loud you could sing along. So please, stop fuck­ing touch­ing my shoul­ders. And def­i­nite­ly stop touch­ing my fuck­ing bicycle.

I know, I know. It’s a slap in the face to every­thing you know. It’s all so log­i­cal, and here I am be­ing com­plete­ly unreasonable. 

But you’ll be okay. So long as you shut up and stop mak­ing jokes about my bro­ken bike.

Glad we worked this out.
 
 

—mel­ony ppenosyne

Flom­mist Mel­ony Ppenosyne is a writer and weird artist type. In the last year alone, she’s trav­eled to Vir­ginia as a com­pet­ing poet, co-writ­ten a play on men­tal ill­ness that is present­ly be­ing pro­duced, and craft­ed a pub­lished es­say check­ing the priv­i­lege and scope of art gal­leries. Copy­right © 2017 Mel­ony Ppenosyne. Pic­tured: Kathy Grif­fin in yet an­oth­er pho­to­graph by Tyler Shields.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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