1615 4 2
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A father's soft neglect has repercussions.
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1615 12 3
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1615 7 8
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of any cautionary tale is somewhere found rolling around in your own sweet voice for me. Your sound's still listing there inside my wobbly head. My head is too often in my open hands, grinning behind its face-mask like a parade on…
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1614 4 0
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Children, afraid of dogs cried. There was uproar of melee. Children strained at their leashes to get away.
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1614 11 3
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“Your husband is an asshole, isn’t he?” he asks.
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1614 2 1
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Forgive me father for I have sinned.”
“Tell me how you have sinned, my son?”
Lies, father. I have told lie after lie in pursuit of my personal gain. I have lied to my family, my friends, to thousands of people who desired nothing from me but the tr
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1614 12 10
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Another siege/
with kamikaze fervor.
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1614 10 6
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I had a meeting with the editor of a well-known magazine. She said, “I think your paradigm got stuck up your monomyth.” “Oh dear. Is that bad?” “Bad? You want to be a writer, don't you?” “Well, I did. I'm not so sure now.…
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1614 8 6
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We are prisoners of anticipation.
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1614 16 10
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Two stories, limestone, gray shutters,next to the park.“We almost bought that house,” my father always saideach time we drove by.He doesn't go down that street anymore.What could have been taunts him from the sidewalks —two little girls and a bucket of…
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1614 0 0
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Photographs can create, both good and bad. They can create a way to make a living, but they can also create opportunities for black mail, divorce settlements and most of all they can create power.
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1614 0 0
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Do not listen to Christmas music out of season. Unless of course you want to ruin Christmas music. Forever.
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1614 3 1
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1613 0 0
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...dogs snapping at the brush as it spins this way, that way, eluding the slavering jaws by a hairs breadth. The fox twists and rolls, tries every trick, every last desperate one.
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1613 3 2
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All I wanted was to love her.
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1613 22 16
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They come to mind/
like ice flowers/
on the small panes
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1613 9 6
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Gather 'round children, For it's high time to tell, The story of a strange man With a horrible, awful smell. For this is a story More disgusting than most. This is the gruesome tale Of Gary Von Gross. With a house made…
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1613 2 1
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Cammie Richard's house was just like all the others in Wilchester. The exterior was vaguely reminiscent of the Dutch style; gray stone with cross beams of dark wood, with two stories and a bay window. Her yard was fertilizer green, with a giant STRATFORD FOOTBALL…
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1613 2 1
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“Excuse me–where are the pig’s feet?”
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1613 8 5
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Without warning his eyes expertly navigated into a closed position setting off the dream machine long without power until this very second.
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1613 18 14
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There are things we must not say.
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1613 9 4
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The truth about the bird and the snake is this. They are dead. And me? I cannot stop thinking about them.
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1613 0 0
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But I am quite sure,
in my loneliness,
there is nothing that aches inside me more,
than a desire to persist.
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1613 6 6
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Learned & wealthy but slowly going mad
from seeing, he did the only thing he could/he turned to love
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1613 6 5
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The robot may be grabbing onto something so big I'm mistaking it for the countryside, or the sunset. I could just be one cog in an infinite chain of leg-attachment, stretching from the cosmos to the sub-atomic.
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1612 6 5
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“Can I feel it?” he reached his hands out immediately, expecting I’d say yes. I am the type to always say yes, right?
“Sure.” I confirmed, swallowing back my fear of his touch. He didn’t seem himself, like this. I led his hands to my hips and let them
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1612 0 0
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Track One Johnny Burkemeister, lead vocals and flutist of the band Albatross Antics, sits on his bed thinking in silence. His elbow rests on his knee, and his palm on his forehead with his fingers running through his dirty-blonde hair. He is staring at a copy of Paste…
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1612 40 24
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What used to be a scene has broken into fragments and blips of her on a screen I can’t control or manipulate.
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1612 3 2
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He lit another reed - a new score orchestrating in his head - his thoughts swirling around the older man; there was something else going on here…
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1612 10 10
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I watch from the cabin window the death of the sun, hear the howl of the new-born storm.
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