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my maddening pyromaniac,/ you're burning up my heart/ so open up your broad-toothed mouth/ and let me pour the ashes in.
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What was so bad about other religions that their followers were automatically condemned to eternal damnation? The priests were so convincing when they claimed Christ was the only true way.
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...when they decided to teach her a lesson, it was with particular vigor and vitriol...
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When we arriveand are met by strange friendsstrange like the fog on the redreed mudflatsthat span the low tide around Incheon -When we arrivecarrying so much we will not needlike the bus they hire to take us through the darksix people to fill so much more space - When…
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"Nothingness had had enough. Nothingness had become militant. It had bought a camouflage jacket. It grew an afro. It burned its bra. Nothingness was pissed, and it wanted its stuff back."
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ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TAKE PICTURES OF ROBOTS!
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Crack open the roof-- raise the battery on a platform with chains
up into the lightning
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When Frank entered Michiko’s apartment, Michiko was not there.
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"Check out these dudes,” he says. “They're all wearing kilts. Not that there's anything wrong with that, as long as they're wearing underwear.
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I'm getting self-righteous here, Dear Reader . . . [hey! wait a second! this is my diary! what are you doing, looking at it, dude! Hit the road! Scram! Vamoose!]
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The man had decided that this was going to be his last day. He’d find out one final thing and he’d be done. He had spent the last few years of his life unwinding things that had been wound and untying knots that had been tied.
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My mind raced at the endless possibilities one could die while driving to get a pizza.
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I feel unlike myself, I think. I've been afraid of notebooks, pens, writing. I've hoped for telekinesis between empty pages and my mind. The hoping leaves me empty handed, and I have nothing to show. I feel unlike myself. I feel the whites of my eyes as…
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Exhausted, weak from the struggle against the personal gift of terrorism delivered by her ex-boyfriend, she died for a few minutes.
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From room to room, neither closet nor drawer contained any remnant of pleasant memory.
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The supervisor, sensing the fear in me, pats my hand and says "Never you mind! This is normal in the tomato. Every few days we rile up, make sauce, and regrow again. Have you ever been in spaghetti sauce before?"
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The man and the woman looked at each other almost shyly. The man flicked his eyes away self-consciously and looked outside, seeing the clouds in the distance, the smaller buildings…
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The war they wage fills everything with holes.
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the swarthy terror network
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Captain Zeep came to Earth at last century's end to help pave the way for a Zorkian takeover by 2012 at the latest. Key to the game plan: Earthlings had to get dumber than eggplants. When George Bush stole the White House, Zeep figured, Bingo, dumb…
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"You look awfully familiar," said one of the corrupt oil company execs to the dark-haired man with the sunglasses and big sideburns.
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A delicate thrill buzzed my face.
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Its intelligence won’t be/
diminished when you take/
a bone saw to its cranium
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But I think what I remember most was Lynda really letting me have it. “Right now I’m seeing this married farmer out in Western Illinois. I met him at this bar out there called the Peppermint Lounge. Boy, they sure know me out there! Funny how every town
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Buyers of freelance writing have a well-deserved reputation for responding slowly, thereby increasing your pleasure in much the same way that the Pointer Sisters longed for a slow hand.
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The next day we were sitting at that same outdoor café on the square, trying to savor a peaceful meal of duck plucked fresh from the Vltava River, when the very same waiter passed by and said, “Bet you wish you had some peeg now, no?” There were camer
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