1569 2 0
|
You held my hand when I hit the ground and told me the shakes would start soon.
|
156921
|
"In the grave my lips will still be moving."
|
156931
|
We sat quietly in my truck. My lit cigarette twitched between my lips. Samantha and I stared at the front door of Planned Parenthood in Worcester.
|
156953
|
—Jesus, a snoring cat. No wonder Alex put this cat outside.
|
1568135
|
|
156821
|
Her eyeballs are made of fur, like plush little bumblebees at home in her sockets.
|
156876
|
men sitting on stoops
women earning the rent
by working as servants
in the rich folks yard
|
156852
|
They build them high they do in Waveland, Mississippi.The tall houses with their skinny thighs spread wide flirting with the dusky coast, like antebellum ladies petticoats lifted, stockings wetted, ankles bared, savingtheir hems from the unpredictable tide,…
|
156856
|
Wearing Land’s End clothes at life’s end
Driving around in circles in your Codgermobile
with 3 good hubcaps.
Who wouldn’t want to steal that?
|
156886
|
He fell through her scalp-crust
|
156823
|
One of the publishing industry’s dirty little secrets is that first novels sell much better than second novels. So why not enhance your chances for success by calling your second novel your first?
|
1568115
|
So I told her
think of it this way:
you’re my unlived life.
|
156885
|
What fascinates me now is now, this instant, this moment. This fugitive, this delinquent, this indiscreet, this forever elusive now. Now now. Now is now and now it is not now. Now is the adversary of time.…
|
156800
|
Yes, my old uncle liked roses. Grew them. He had a way of smelling a rose—after he smelled a rose, you are surprised the rose is still there.
|
1568152
|
It was Fredrick Miller, not his murdered son Matthew, who was executed Monday night at Henshaw Prison. (the system won't take anything under 200 characters, so this part is just to take up space. please ignore)
|
156811
|
“You need to keep a close vigil on your X-Ray binaries from the Sun. The star and its blazing temperature could spill over at its outer-most edges. The material would be such a high temperature; it would destroy all life on your planet, and…
|
156877
|
They say that inside the veins of every Bohemian
lies an entire army of dead alcoholics.
I suppose this is true of me too.
|
1568119
|
For Sale: Clean Depends, Never Worn
|
156854
|
I smell it, it smells/Of giggles and leg shaking
|
156875
|
Nine sated elephants and an ass sit around a decimated Thanksgiving table discussing the state of the union over the hacked to bits carcass of a twenty-three pound turkey. Two years in to The Great Communicator's Lame Duck term and the nine elephants, whose…
|
156740
|
I had never seen anyone die. For first time in my life, I was afraid, even more than when my step-dad got drunk and roughed me up. When Dale Franklin got shot last year standing on the corner outside the laundry-mat it took the ambulance forty-five minu
|
156762
|
George was the biggest coward alive. But he was too afraid to admit it. But that therein was his cowardice. He couldn't face the truth. He couldn't face his weakness. It made him uncomfortable, the thought that he might need to change.
|
156720
|
Time stole you from underneath the goldendock. Writhing there, slick as a flapping tongue;lips gored, red, whose gaping could embolden weak hands behind the blazing buck blade, long ago pierced in your summer quietus, beneath the soft shade of a tackle box, as the…
|
156784
|
It’s just that—well, I don’t know how to put this—
With a Dadaist poet a non-affair is the height of erotic bliss.
|
156720
|
This was just noise now – pure, raw noise, grabbed from their throats and flung high by some sharp claws of violence buried in their breasts. Even from his third floor apartment, they sounded like they were right outside his window now. It was if they h
|
156700
|
Getting answers felt like it was not enough. Madam Mayweather wanted more. She wanted to hurt someone.
|
156732
|
It's a tunnel, you know, like the neck of a bottle, the tunnel the hair comes up, it's coming out soon, I'm an adolescent now, dammit.
|
156798
|
The Chicago to Denver fast train clocked 90 MPH plus, but braked hard on the long curve through town, sparks ringing flanged wheels.
|
156755
|
How the hell do these 1/8 inch long red-eyed flying insects wind up in my kitchen anyway?
|
156774
|
Bill Watterson isn't just the creator of the world's best comic strip. According to the book “Looking for Calvin and Hobbes,” a biography of the elusive and reclusive cartoonist, Watterson is also a world-class introvert. Watterson refuses to make…
|
