Most read stories

Mid - Loss

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Mid-Dawn//Mid-Dusk -- Wait for me.

Fuck Ups

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we try, we keep trying

Litter Box

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When I died, she said, she was going to have me cremated and put my ashes in the cats’ litter box.

Chicagoo (from Swink literary journal)

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When Kim handed me some of her husband’s condoms—“Here, use these”—out of one of their bedroom dresser drawers, could she sense the astonishment I was trying my best not to show?

The Guardian

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.

The Little Things

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Incredibly he began to picture in his mind a scene not related at all to his frenzied search but of a huge plate of apple pie a la mode with the vanilla ice cream melting in streams like cool lava down the side of the pie and off of the plate.

Let’s Us Not Exaggerate

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Call him a hobo or homeless or bum or junkie.

Wild Dreams of Reality, Chapter 15

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Darrell looked at me, then down at himself. He was still in his wet underwear. "What is this?" he said, looking up again. "Where in the hell was I?" He shook his head. "It was weird, Philip. Boy, that was one wild dream." "That was no d

A Chaos Theory

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—with spinster goddesses in the middle of things / circling looms.

Gargoyle

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they were open weekends if we needed to bring him in for euthanasia.

Jorge Curioso Flies a Plane

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This is Jorge. He was a good little monkey. And always curious.Like the time he and his friend, the man in the amarillo sombrero, had to fly to Japan. *Jorge sat by the window. Watched the ground get further away. Until they were above the clouds. He looked out…

Is That You, Bugs?

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Poor kid. She didn't mean to leave my business card on her kitchen counter next to the telephone. It was a mistake.

Josephine Skinny Jeans: Chapter 4

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They gave Lee a bunch of morphine in the ambulance and he came to vaguely, murmuring shit about God and mermaids.

X Marks the Spot

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I was an only child....

The Ouija Board Guide to True Facts about Cremation

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Oh, and take off all your jewelry unless you want your relatives sifting you through a window screen looking for your diamond.

Inventing Games

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As children we invent games and we're really creative. We concoct ridiculous rules and enjoy making adaptations to them. And everything makes sense. Then you grow up, lose creativity. You don't invent games anymore. Recess is replaced with a second…

Watering

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“Sometimes when I feel the urge to create, I don’t know whether to grab my paints, my camera, my guitar or my pen.” “You could have sex,” her friend, sitting in the desk next to hers, joked.

Letters from the Asylum (3)

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She stepped into a pair of high heeled slippers and began to dance. She was Salome, a witch, dancing like the most beautiful, the most skilled whores of Paris.

Conversation between Young Men

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It was stubborn early winter, when everyone was cold but went outside anyways, rubbing red fingers and shuffling feet.

Strip (Her)

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There’s not enough cigarette cloud to conceal her, malnourished and pale beneath blue and pink lights that summon 80s-era skate rinks. She saunters towards the center of the stage, asking her bored expression to convey detachment, while a DJ that fits the

The Atlantic

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Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them

The Man Who Lived Amongst the Cannibals

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“Ah Willie! Ah my boy! You poor sweet faced youth. Gone now! Our memories, Willie, our memories will haunt us forever with your laughter, your joy, your enduring excuses, your misspellings & badly slanted penmanship. Oh Willie. My boy. Gone & gone f

The Dog

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They stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change so they could cross the highway.

Borden, Dream on Lord of the Pies.

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A plague of dykes mattered not. This spider-girl had driven the world of thought from Borden’s mind.

Raincoat

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“It’s about basic working conditions!” she says, rubbing ice cubes on her nipples.

Billie Holiday Visits Her Song

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Why you keep a razor blade in your stocking?

Considering the Mailman

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It’s not just the mailman. It’s the logo on the mailbox down the street. It’s the uniform. It’s any man or woman in the whole unsettling profession.

We Don't Need a Guitar Man

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The courtroom smelled a lot like mold and it was hot as you could imagine. I sweated through my shirt and wondered if he wasn’t dying under his robe. He looked down at me from his bench and I just knew he was going to call me a commie and sentence me to l

Comes a Little Dog

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Time Holds Ultimately Nothing Dear Except Reunion

What She Thought It Was

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She refuses to let her eyes cry. Her eyes played tricks on her and showed her one thing was really another. They don't deserve to cry.