1722 9 2
|
What is the meaning of you?
|
172240
|
I’m not the creative type like my friend Bosely, an Irish Setter. I’m a traditionalist. I like to eat exactly at 8:30 a.m. and 6 p.m. I take my bone with me everywhere I go. I will not carry the poop-bag.
|
1722159
|
|
172281
|
As I watched her sleep, I saw gentle frost and sun on crystal.
|
172242
|
He had thought of the walk down to Mrs Greensmith’s shop when he and all the men beside him reckoned they’d “had it” that time when II SS Panzer-Division had fought like gods for Hill 212.
|
172263
|
I had the smallest taste. Liquid heat, gifted from lips. One long moment spent lost in her warmth. Fleeting. I should have drunk more. Would she have relented to one more sip? One final taste? “Be careful,” she…
|
172241
|
The way she once felt for another, naked mornings in her bed, and Young Frankenstein. Sed-a-give.
|
172165
|
You load the pipe and suck in the fireworks. Whistling missiles, slithering sparks, shivering teases, dripping embers. You fall asleep with flashing neon outside and the Fourth of July in your veins. When you wake up, your room is the saddest place o
|
17211112
|
The shop is swarming with little women.
|
172199
|
People usually take fonts for granted.
|
172186
|
You lazy fuckwit! You half-assed shithead!
|
172166
|
Devoid of flesh and muscle,
Composed of bone and air.
|
1721115
|
I enjoyed the talking part though
rambling on and on for lord knows
why or how
|
172142
|
I met a girl so sweet, So sweet that she could Break your heart No girl, no one should Be so sweet So sweet that she melts My depression Increase my anxiety No one should be so sweet More like a little girl Than her 25 years If…
|
172141
|
Hers or mine?
You figure it out, jackass.
|
172165
|
52. they hate the word hate
|
172120
|
Joseph K. ran a publishing house in the shadow of the Castle.
Perhaps “publishing house” is too grand a title. Joseph K. kept a battery of six or seven (depending on repairs) manual typewriters, a crate of carbon paper, and a large stapling machine
|
172141
|
Once, during an argument, she had said, It’s like there’s another woman, except she doesn’t exist. Which sometimes it really did feel like, a betrayal, being thrown over for someone else. The muse.
She could have shot the muse.
|
172110
|
"Well if we break for lunch at the same time wanna sit with me? I got fruit roll-ups I'll share."
Cory looked up at the boy, removing her hand from the water only to brush a lock of dark hair from her eyes. He was still smirking, jaw crunching, saliva
|
172170
|
I am a scavenger. I sit on the telephone wire, a ravenous vulture watching a man and a woman arguing across the street. The clouds remind me of ashy marshmallows I found in a fire pit yesterday. The woman starts violently shoving the man; he stumbles…
|
172091
|
for paul celan take it like an amulet a jewel like a tulip filling up the expanse of green the volatile view from within your thin wrist you write into manuscript for the hand is a map with but grasping still it is but a like two palms like a…
|
1720107
|
|
17201313
|
Let's walk through this park. We can talk until dark. You have the look of a wolf. I'm not stupid, Jack. I'm a lamb, you'll see, once you get to know me. That tat is fierce and your leathers tight black. My ink is old and black suits me, I'm told. …
|
172076
|
I pay for 3 Trump Troll Dolls and a package red licorice twizzlers and head back toward the door. Dancing Gnome Girl is there to greet me. I stick a twizzler in the teeth of the donation pail.
|
172032
|
“Emerald Leaf Borers, Dutch Elm Disease and Gypsy Moths blow through here like the Plagues of Egypt,” said Rafe, sipping from his glass of Parallel 44 wine. “You'd think we'd get more than a few days of good weather for all the parasites we feed.” …
|
172000
|
Ireland - her beauty is like a drug.
|
172051
|
I'd have gone even if I got F's for the entire two weeks. The homeless would have homes, the sick, medicine; the hungry would eat. They could not wait for the generosity of Kurban Bayramı. Now was the hour of relief. The children's eyes. Lambs whose bl
|
172031
|
Let us be stranded in the Andes and have to eat human flesh or at least toothpaste to survive! Let there be an earthquake! Let there be a flood! Let there be a tornado, a new ice age, an invasion from Mars. Only: let me survive.
|
172042
|
“I wrote a story about you today.”
|
17192411
|
|
