1457 2 2
|
|
126921
|
The woman was dancing, holding her bottle in the air as she slowly turned around, blocking the way to the exit. “I asked Miss Pansy Blossom if she would wing a reel,” she sang.
|
140521
|
This energy said, "Fuck it, I am going to be the fucking sun."
In it’s language it sounded more like "Khershhhhhhh Hhhhhhhhhhh Zirshhhhhhh."
|
248423
|
The reaction had started, the hives and respiratory swelling. Maddy huffed for air, each inhalation rattling her throat louder, more hoarse.
|
112421
|
Your left hand cups your balls which are drawn up tight under a turgid fireplug cock. Your right hovers over your temple, thumb cocked at the cheek. Your eyes are dreamy, mouth wry, chest and belly furry and fat. You're a picture in a file on my desktop on which…
|
116821
|
Its edges fluttering in the dull breeze, today's town newspaper lay at my old feet, open to the obituary page.
|
114322
|
|
129022
|
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NO3RAM7-ciU
|
212421
|
It's Halloween again, the season when my mother died.
|
187222
|
This is a wife pregnant with spiders
|
148921
|
"That zit on your forehead just won't go away, will it, sweetie?" she adds as she brushes her daughter's bangs downward.
|
115622
|
An extended account of his criminal exploits for a criminal syndicate of Midwestern newspapers and radio stations hastened a change of career plans.
|
135521
|
Macro-Microbe parked his car and proceeded on foot, which was a misnomer because he had no feet. Typical for Manhattan, no one gave him a second glance except for a homeless woman who tried to sell him hand-sanitizer. Macro-Microbe locomoted himself insid
|
193627
|
Regina Dawn "Gina" Edwards, 49, passed away June 2, 2006.
R.I.P. "Ridge Woman"
|
104522
|
into the Zone of Avoidance gazes sink/
―and why not? a black hole at the heart of it,/gravity attracts even our vision when/
we lift our gazes . . .
|
135421
|
You sleep. The time is soft and slow.
Your dreams are covered with the snow.
|
156421
|
They could cram Rob inside the trunk and then drop him somewhere in the dingles.
|
174020
|
I am a shadow. Cooler than liquid. I don't need a container to take shape.
|
152322
|
When you're scared to write badly, that's when you write. You are probably trying to tell the truth.
|
104921
|
And then, one fateful day, the world ran out of ideas. The last one was gone, floating away like a balloon full of the helium we had already squandered.
|
201520
|
Someday they'll find me face-down in a puddle of ink.
|
107422
|
Either a ruckus needs to be raised
Or a ruckus needs to be caused
I began chewing the locks of love
Off the fences and the gates
I was so outraged
At the horrible academic trash
If they had found me doing this
They would have hauled me a
|
92521
|
The middle finger talks of many things
How I killed the moon
But still drank the moonshine
And how getting over her took
Some bleeding from the soul
Maybe it’s the Inner Face of Outer Space
That worries me the most
But what about the Fro
|
164120
|
He gave her cancer. He gave her cancer.
Not what she said. She said her relationship gave her cancer. Her relationship with him. Gave her cancer.
|
195621
|
With my heart preserved, I shoved a handful of baubles back in its place: some pages torn from my favorite books, a bass guitar string, a butane lighter, a shot of vodka. I stitched myself back up and left the roof in favor of the attic, where I hung my s
|
203224
|
"kissing her with every muscle in my neck."
|
111822
|
My chin is half-eaten. My chest is gone. There is a rhythm to how each flame licks me. Like how you used to in the mornings before work. Before the coffee. Before the toaster. Before a rose clenched between your teeth and dancing.
|
166421
|
She pictured the President leaving the hospital a few days later, hobbling on a cane. Jackie beside him, Caroline and John-John dashing from a waiting limousine. He couldn’t die. She’d looked into his eyes. John F. Kennedy spoke to her.
|
238920
|
Hanging was back and thriving - twice a week at half seven in the evening.
|
209522
|
There are worse things than getting your ass kicked by a 12 year old Puerto Rican kid. This was exactly my thinking as he stood over me, his pre-pubescent screams sounding like a baby Bruce Lee, preparing to finish me off.
|
