I long for the loneliness of Los Angeles. I miss its shiny exterior and its hollow core. I always find myself at home in this dangerous labyrinth. And when I get hungry, I crave those small glimmers of hope, the sweet twinkling sustenance fed to me night after night. I know I am so close… Read More “Los Angeles” by Brianna Vigil
I’m drinking too much again. I don’t get blitzed, but every sunset is a new bottle. Who am I kidding? The caps are torn loose before the sun meets the horizon. “I’m having a few and wishing that you were here…” From my balcony, I hear I’m not the only one. There’s a party in… Read More “In Isolation (Drinking Too Much Again)” After Dinah Washington’s ‘Drinking Again’ by Alisha Escobedo
i’m waiting to meet my new psychiatrist, hoping she won’t look like my mother. i’ve had that happen before and couldn’t get past it— same sad eyes opened wide to feign joy, same pursed lips that puckered a bit to the left. a few times, i imagined her hiding wine behind her desk. i canceled… Read More “my new psychiatrist” by Alisha Escobedo
I found myself under a hot red light surrounded by smoke, salt in the air as if I were on a ship in the middle of a storm tossed around by the imbalance of the sea, the hallway a long passage crowded with people unaffected I rocked from one side to the other in suffocating… Read More “Revelation of the Damned” by Brianna Vigil
I found home, at first, I was apprehensive, but there you were, ready. I was apprehensive, but my bags were already in the hall, And then came the excitement— intoxicating— but I had only just gotten comfortable in our bed when the wallpaper began to peel. Two years in: termites made the beams rot and… Read More “Rent” by Sen Kathleen
Hello readers, writers and curious parties alike! Thank you so much for either being an active part of, or randomly stumbling across, Sentience Literary Journal. We are so excited to have you all here for our very first publication! I want to give a special thank you to all the amazingly talented writers who are… Read More This is the Day of the Show Y’all!
The first time I met God, I was draped in a rough, elephant-colored bathrobe, worn soles on my slippers.[…]… Read More “Portrait of a Smoking Lounge as Cave” by Jake Bailey
There are dogs next door, in the house to the right of Carol Anne’s. And not just one or two. She’s tried counting them based on the different barks, but she always loses track. When a siren whines down the road, they all start howling, almost screaming. It’s as if they’re mourning something, perhaps their… Read More “Carol Anne” by Kelly Curran