FLY
FRESHLY CAUGHT
NEWEST FLY
On Taking a Risk
I met a woman while standing in line inside a dispensary She told me she carries a gun in her purse along with the cash needed to fill…
Today at the Dump
SATURDAY, OCT 17, 2026 · FOUR FLIES IN ROTATION
Four recent flies
FLY
FLY
STILL BUZZING
RECENT FLY
Three poems about my asshole
1. a clean bill of health the doctor told me to roll onto my side i asked if we could get to know each other first she said…
FLY
RECENTLY LANDED
RECENT FLY
200Kmph and Nineteen, Berlin
the thin film of my mouth on your cunt in a half-mile high toilet just to keep us going through an invisible security corridor from west to east…
FLY
CAUGHT IN THE ACT
RECENT FLY
You mother fucker
I know how you’re reading this. One hand on the phone, one hand on your life like it’s a drink you don’t really like but you already paid…
FOUR FLIES. NO FIXED ADDRESS.
Fly on duty
HOVER TO HOLD STILL · CLICK A FLY TO READ
The Magazine Gets Weirder From Here.
Online-only playground
Fly Swatter
No. 1
A quick hit of micro-fiction. Click the fly. Five clean hits and civilization is briefly restored.
0 / 5 swatted · 0 points
Fake News
Her motivation was simple enough. “Why should the kids get all the presents?” a red-clad woman said as…
Lie to me →Experiments
TMF experimental department
Things to do instead of behaving.
Blind Date With a Poem
No title. No author. Read first; meet the culprit afterward.
I am ashamed of my schism,
my contortionist brain and tongue.
Told status is a ticket to love.
Take hurried notes on how
to be righteous.
Worship Satan at my school.
Eat full-metal propaganda.
I should be enough–one day.
I am a contradiction.
Confess on knee through a beehive
covering your honeycomb profile,
tell the truth
about wearing the Devil's cotton fingers
when I am menstruating.
Only a sociopath could come up with both
invention and condemnation.
Is it always what you say it is,
Father?
I wear a rosary under my shirt;
I like the cold burn.
I’m as invisible as God in a church.
A child. A crime.
Contrition, disclosure, satisfaction.
I am ashamed of my shame.
Coming to terms with gasoline
next to my Mary Janes,
matches nervously scratching.
A chalk border of burns.
Acting as though speech exonerates
my clotted gauze and knotted deeds.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat after me:
I cannot choose to be the seed
or the poison.
I can choose not to be the harvest.
I think. I think. I think, I stammer
If I am trying to be honest—
Father, you have sinned.
Father
by Kaci Skiles Laws
Open the original →
Choose Your Poison
Pick a bottle. We take no responsibility for what happens next.
The Cut-Up Machine
Paste your own prose. Nothing leaves your browser. Then let the machine make a small mess of it.
The wreckage will appear here.
The First Infestation
2017—2025
75 pieces. Nine years of poetry, fiction, art, humor and other things that probably should have been supervised.
From the Archive
Got something to say?
We want your work. Poetry, fiction, art, photos, weird thoughts, all of it.
Submit to TMF → Send itinto the swarm. ↘
BEFORE YOU GO · EXIT INTERVIEW
Would you recommend us?
YOUR OPINION HAS BEEN MISPLACED.