1648 0 1
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They drifted for months, locked between the vast merciless blue and the withering sun. Their faces blistered and their minds bleached and weary. They conspired in the shadows, drew plans in the sawdust, they grew confident and…
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16482214
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I thought each day died inside the clock.
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164800
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He picked her out of the crowd at Club Mai, easy when you knew what to look for: long, dark hair, pretty Latina face, store-bought tits. This one wore a tight dress that showed off her legs, sculpted to perfection by God and a pair of four-inch stilettos.
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164850
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The sound of it wasn't right in his head yet. When he said it aloud he didn't really believe it.
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164832
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I want to talk like Rose Tyler, and be whisked away by the strapping Docor, preferably in David Tennant form.
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164811
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It broke through the surface of the suburban world and shattered it into pieces, fragments of dreams and amazement. She was not the same as she had been a moment before. It was an epiphany she couldn't put her finger on.
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16482214
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the signature of God/
consigning everything/
to the saturating energies of time.
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164794
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164762
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She was in love with a boy whose eyes were so brown that she sat stopped in the restaurant at the anniversary dinner with the spoon in her slow chocolate fondant. Out of the corner of her eye, around the back of her head, under the table knees knocking
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1647134
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Sun strikingGolden snow glistens Across empty fieldsLong winter shadowsTrees like fingers The morning in their grasp
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164743
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There is nothing so obscure it is not enhanced by talking, nothing so dull it cannot be coaxed into brilliance, nothing so deep it cannot be dug from an abyss and brought to the surface in paroxysms of red.
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164721
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Oh no, here is that Whitman man
I’ve heard he is a bounder.
Don’t look his way or catch his eye-
Just get another round, dear.
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1647117
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The world knows how to make you smile. I'm certain, but it's your own unique grin that they want for themselves. It's always been their perfect prize to horde. The trouble of course comes from wanting something that only exists in…
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1647137
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Eons later, Bobo evolves into Shakespeare. Bonus feature: wings.
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1647105
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Half way through our cigarettes she told me her name was Charlotte.
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1646164
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He ran his forefinger round the rim of the lid then sucked at his fingertip. The texture's like chalk, he thought, it tastes of earth. He hadn't anticipated this — but dipped his finger in again and swallowed. It was like scraping his tongue against a blackboard on…
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164664
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164610
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Conjoined - her hardened nipple brushing, softly, against him, his chest hair caressing her skin like a thousand hungry lovers’ fingers – the perfect moment lasted eternity.
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164600
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And it whispered like any wood. And the blade moaned when he got too deep and tried to cut too much. And as the dead parts of him came off, in tendrils and dust, the man's chest began to move, like the hands around his heart had let go.
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164687
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When the full moon changes trajectory and comes close it pushes you to different gravitational fields
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164601
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My heart and mind, eyes, hands and lips — Yours.
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164600
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“You have run for your life, Astylos, and won. All Hellenes share in your victory.” The crowd bellowed and thundered as an attendant tied purple ribbons around the winner’s forehead, arms and legs. These would mark him as a victor for the remaining days o
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1646128
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The people with the lucky faces Are always sneaking out more credit For everything than they deserve. Maybe They are right, maybe it's our fault For buying into the myths of the Land of mirrors. The people with the Lucky faces haven't…
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164698
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By Jackson, you called and said, I'll be too drunk to drive. Hell, if I do my very best, I could be blind by Shreveport.
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164610
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Artie invited me to go with him to pick out a Halloween Pumpkin for the house. I had recently moved into a communal living situation and we were still getting to know each other. Artie was the kind of person who made a special occasion out of ordinary life. Why…
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164600
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"Being honest with me," said her teacher, "will hopefully allow you to be honest with yourself--writing is about being honest, and articulating that honesty."
It sounded like a riddle, and her teacher looked at her with the sanctimony of a wizard.
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1646119
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What if I never feel like a real artist? What does it even mean to be a "real" artist? What if nobody ever cares about what I make?
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164530
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You wake up. Slowly but surely. Okay, you're in the bookshop. Yes, apparently this is where you slept, on the floor, with absolutely no sense of irony, in the romantic fiction section...
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164595
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I'm warming my stool at the far end of the bar as usual, nursing my fourth draft on a balmy Wednesday afternoon when I lock eyes with this lady who's bashing her head through the front door. You've heard the expression, “50-yard fox,” right? —Looks…
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1645125
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The heavyset blind woman came into the art opening without a dog or a cane.
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