November 18, 2018


Tacky plastic figurined remission

littering Natasha’s Communist room

flowered in colorful prints of American

action stars and themed comforter sets

before there were billboards 

and the Soviet Union had died on

Christmas 1991 and there was nothing

like Adidas head-turning colors of progress

and maybe malice too pre-hungover in 

Rùski depths made a temporary lover by 

the slow movement of swinging tits

and cheap techno, no familiar chorus

hear the sweet voices of arguing women

close to the opposite of ecstasy whatever

they call that here, the place dark

with red light and dead eyes sometimes

if you don’t have paper you’ll see how 

quickly the night turns sour.

Still, that place was the way we look 

at old pictures like Coca-Cola 

hasn’t vandalized them yet

with Levi sacrilege hiding American films 

under mattresses like prison shanks before

everything became colorful and disposable 

the opposite of what should be 

a communist regime cheap plastic chandeliered 

bubble gum pink embroidered bedazzled  

phony diamond crusting glasses and handbagged 

dog-collared people learning decadence in 

imported cars toting bags of Burger King 

like trophies of freedom.

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Rush Eby

I'm an American writer, and novelist based out of Franklin Tennessee.

 I spent my early adulthood traveling through Europe and Asia before enlisting in the United States Marine Corps infantry where I attained the rank of Sergeant.

 I'm a marketing executive at


and now contribute articles, essays, and fiction pieces to various publications. 

 My first novel Eat Me is currently in pre-publication and I am now finishing my upcoming book, Fetish.



June 8, 2019