Doompunk Dispatch

David K. - weird writing ~ doompunkdispatch.com

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independent publisher of Doom 🧿

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Yog-Sothoth by Jorge Peña

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Here’s his IG! https://www.instagram.com/jorclank?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Jorge Peña (@jorclank) • Instagram photos and videos

2,568 Followers, 7,694 Following, 871 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from Jorge Peña (@jorclank)

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Wilbur Whately by Jorge Peña

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Here’s his IG https://www.instagram.com/jorclank?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Jorge Peña (@jorclank) • Instagram photos and videos

2,568 Followers, 7,694 Following, 871 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from Jorge Peña (@jorclank)

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Dunwich Child by Jorge Peña

[doompunkdispatch]

Here’s his IG! https://www.instagram.com/jorclank?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Jorge Peña (@jorclank) • Instagram photos and videos

2,568 Followers, 7,694 Following, 871 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from Jorge Peña (@jorclank)

[doompunkdispatch]

Cover art for Drippy Trippy Doom (2025, David Kane). Art by Jorge Peña.

[bastardbeck]

i've been very very busy!! many potentially very exciting things to come! but here's an edgy pin up girl with some weaponry to hold us all over in the meantime!

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Dunwich Child by Jorge Peña

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Wilbur Whately by Jorge Peña

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Yog-Sothoth by Jorge Peña

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Words Grow Weird in Alphabet Gardens

“…when the great Demiurge, Faro Lord of Waters and the Word, was setting the world in order, he made women fertile with tomatoes and in retu

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Drippy Trippy Doom

“I’m not sure if David Kane is an occult conspiracy theorist afflicted with logomania, a brash new writer who’s not afraid to take risks, or

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Literary Horror & Surrealist Trash

an appreciation of Joe Koch

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Call Me Face Stabber

a strange tale with original art by Jorge Peña

Please enjoy a strange tale of psychedelic doom featuring original art by Jorge Peña (find him as @jorclank on IG!)

[mechabarbarian]

Cyborg Frankenstein.

[purrtyhatemachine]

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The Wound Takes Hold: Control In Cronenberg

You see, control can never be a means to any practical end. It can never be a means to anything but more control. Like junk. ~ William S. Bu

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Words Grow Red in Alphabet Gardens

[Edited by Amabilis O’Hara]

Spring means nothing to the San Tobit desert.

Tiny temperature alterations barely perturb the barren ecosystem. But the Gardens feel it. From March 22nd to May 19th, they flourish in a sea level canyon. Legend speculates that plants do not grow there. Names do. Delirious letters spell delicious words, ripe for enunciation. Imbibe the fruit’s flesh and Know.

One seeker sojourns for this verbal oasis. She trundles down Gerund Canyon—her Orphic descent carrying her like spores tracing pink arabesques on the perfidious breeze—and follows the winding corpse of the long-dry Ekphrastic Creek. She takes steps with a thief’s conviction.

The Gardens house the rarest plants on the planet. Vegetative consciousness abounds in verdant ecstasy. Reverent flowerbeds bow heads, inviolate in vibrancy. Violet irises roll out the red carpet for this sunburnt bodhisattva.

The seeker sinks deeper. The river rises past her waist, now torso, now neck. Strange amphibians slither in vortices below her toes. Atop a lily pad sits the seeker’s prize. The Gardens’ springtime environment enriches a certain scarlet cactus sporting white clouds of pernicious spines. This peyote-like entheogen promises mystical dispatch. Just don’t let its tips prick your throat during download.

Exhaustion forgotten, she forces the thing into her mouth. Epidermal defenses slice her lips. Lovely wounds weep inside her cheeks as wooly fibers gouge her uvula. Salival psychopomp and stomach circumstance greet the guest.

Head slips beneath the creek—body sinks into murk. Gossamer knots untie—she lies in the grotto at the bottom of the world. Fish filch her nutritious bits. Particles crack off participant participles. The seeker merges with Everything Else. She Knows and therefore is Known.

On May 20th, as always, the Alphabet Gardens shrink away, leaving nothing but the scorched, scarred desert.

The rest is spit in the wind.

Words Grow Red in Alphabet Gardens

Edited by Amabilis O’Hara Spring means nothing to the San Tobit desert. Tiny temperature alterations barely perturb the barren ecosystem. Bu