Orgy

Posted on October 22, 2026 by John Biscello

Breathe deeply in a crowd of people. Continue breathing. Realize that breathing is an orgy of threaded respirations. If the notion of orgy disgusts you, stop breathing.

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Comeback

Posted on October 22, 2026 by John Biscello

Pretend to be dead at your own funeral. Bask in the unparalleled theater of your ending. When the audience leaves, stop pretending. Plan a comeback, understanding that previous perceptions will be dismissed, and the cast of characters, including you, will look a lot different.

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Return to Sender

Posted on October 22, 2026 by John Biscello

Write an affectionate letter to six-year-old you who imagined you as the sort of person who would one day write an affectionate letter to six-year-old you. In advance preparation for what you might one day say to yourself, the envelope in which the letter is sealed is marked Do Not Open Until Eternity. Laugh at this conundrum, as you would a six-year-old child playing marbles, and set the letter aside, wondering not only about the contents of the letter but also if you’d ever find time for eternity.

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Nails

Posted on October 22, 2026 by John Biscello

Paint your fingernails in the way you imagine your daughter would paint your fingernails. Have a daughter to paint your fingernails. Paint your daughter’s fingernails into tiny moons. Blow on the moons until they are dry and without worry. Compare your painted fingernails to your daughter’s painted fingernails. Afterwards, remove your fingers, one by one, and place them around your daughter’s throat in the form of a necklace. If your daughter complains that she can’t breathe, explain to her that you’ve been wearing your mother’s, her grandmother’s fingers around your throat for a long time and couldn’t imagine not having them there. Be sure not to mention words like stranglehold or asphyxiation when talking about your past.

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Bedside Manner

Posted on October 22, 2026 by John Biscello
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End of Days

Posted on October 21, 2026 by John Biscello

Name your child End of Days. When your child is throwing a tantrum, say—End of Days, I need you to stop this instant. When your child goes to sleep at night, tell them—Sweet dreams, End of Days, I love you. When your child gets suspended from school for aberrant behavior, throw up your hands and say—End of Days, I don’t know what to do with you. When your child become a teenager and the very thought of your existence repels them, ask yourself—End of Days, what happened to us? When your child is no longer a child and they leave home, write in your diary—My life feels empty without End of Days.

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A.I.

Posted on October 21, 2026 by John Biscello

Develop an A.I. mother. Ask the A.I. mother to raise and nurture you in the way that you always imagined you should have been raised and nurtured. Discard your previous existence, the first one, and install a legend around the events and circumstances comprising your alternative life. Develop an A.I. father. Kill it in its sleep. If it insists on coming back to life, generate a sub-plot in which you cast your A.I. father in the role of psychic adversary. Develop, with nurturance and care, an A.I. child. Proceed to develop the necessary A.I. parents to raise it. As the child grows, abandon your post as a shadow and develop an A.I. womb in which to crawl inside. Pray for short memory and safe return.

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Copyright

Posted on October 21, 2026 by John Biscello

Copyright every thought you imagine you have. Attach yourself to it, to them. Construct an identity around these collected thoughts, and copyright the identity. If you find one of your thoughts being spoken or shared by someone else, inform the user that the thought they believe to be theirs, actually belongs to you, and you have the copyright to prove it. If you encounter someone in public who resembles you in a manner that qualifies as copyright infringement, remind the person that identity theft is a violation punishable by law. If you happen to be accused of copyright infringement, for living someone else’s life, speaking someone else’s words, or appropriating their persona, redraw the imaginary lines between you and the rest of the world.

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Alignment

Posted on October 21, 2026 by John Biscello

Conceive of your body as the size of a planet. Notice that your body is inhabited by many things, each unique and unrepeatable in its design and imprint. Shrink yourself down to the size of an amoeba. Observe the uniquely unrepeatable structures of the giants roaming the world of which you are a part. Conceive or yourself as a human being. What do you see?

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Heaven

Posted on October 21, 2026 by John Biscello

Imagine a goldfish in heaven.

What is it breathing?

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