June Horrorscopes reprinted from Champs Quarterly

Aries (March 21-April 19) You will fill a bathtub with gasoline and human blood and set yourself on fire, dreaming of tenderness and silence.

Taurus (April 20-May 20) Swallow those flat round stones from the creek bed behind your house, then those vines will coil around your lonesome heart.

Gemini (May 21-June 21) You'll wake up in a cave three months from now totally nude with an empty bottle of bear juice lying next to you and think: did I marry a fucking black bear?

Cancer (June 22-July 22) Hang father by his tiny, wilting spermatazoa, crawl back into mother's bloated ovum.

Leo (July 23-August 22) Shark men are hiding in those wasp nests hanging from your gutter; listen to their wise shark words and learn about the murder in your heart.

Virgo (August 23-September 22) You've wondered what a human heart tastes like for too long; cut yours out and devour all the frenzy and longing.

Libra (September 23-October 23) You'll find love hiding in the dark forest; don't go in there without a machete. Love means to eviscerate you and dance like a wounded horse in the rain with your intestines draped around it's lovely body.

Scorpio (October 24-November 21) Your apartment complex will catch fire. Your husband will die. Your two children will die. You'll start a new life in the forest, drinking from the stream with wild dogs.

Sagittarius (November 22-December 21) Smear excrement on your face and hands, hide in the bushes and wait for your neighbor to come out of his house.

Capricorn (December 22-January 19) You've been thinking about the surgery for some time: Don't delay! Now is the time to have yourself transformed into a minotaur.

Aquarius (January 20-February 18) There's a dead animal in your bed. Dig a hole in the soft,wet earth and bury yourself alive with the dead beast.

Pisces (February 19-March 20) Put your hands on her buttocks. Kiss her mouth. Kiss her breasts.

I'd rather be down some dark holler where the sun refuses to shine

The dogs are all barking. Wonder who's coming up the driveway? I go into mom's room, but she's asleep. She doesn't know who's coming for me, she doesn't understand my dread. She hasn't seen my coughing up blood, she hasn't noticed that I'm short of breath. She's got her own weight to bear. When I seem down, she'll run her hands through my hair and tell me she understands. She doesn't know me. She only knows the person that life made me. I was laying in my bedroom one night and I saw the Angel of Death. She spoke in every language at once, but I understood what she said.