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I pat my pocket to make sure everything’s in order; a Starbucks blueberry scone to sustain me, a $50 Brooks Brothers gift card from my in-laws, and my “piece”–a fully-charged BlackBerry handheld device.
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so many bills to pay
the list keeps shedding its skin like a snake
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Words are looking ever so strange today
like a hole in space
a wind in a cloud
a face superimposed over a mountain
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She dropped the bundle of faggots she had collected and spun around with her mouth open.
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Plus women can be really sexy when their horny and plump with baby envy. If I could make a hard-on I’d like to be around for that.
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Describe my origami, the shape of a gun or a limp dick, or maybe a flower.
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This had the unintentional effect of me picturing her in a tight white top and tiny orange shorts. From up close like this, I had clearly misjudged her earlier. She could definitely be more than the quirky best friend in my movie.
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"The weird gods climbed down from the moon, past low-hanging clouds and upon leafless treetops. Their unusual boots first touched ground in a parking lot in the city. The snow crunched."
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The Bird King is trapped behind the mirrors. Sometimes you'll see a hand, a wing, fluttering in a dark space. You may even see his breath, a pulse of mist in a corner of the glass. But don't ever smash his silvered prison. Don't ever let him out and into the world.*****O…
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She tossed the big bird into the air. It wobbled, then flew away.
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No one commented on her altered appearance, although Will in Accounts said he quite liked her hair like that, so she assumed that no one could see the snakes. But she still felt self-conscious, exposed. She had to remember not to talk to them when she was…
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I imagined you going at her in ferocious fucking-- /
O, O, O, O, O, O, O Immortal Glistening Cock,
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The teeth I want must hold significance. Like the quote, “it’s not the destination that matters, it’s the journey,” for me, it’s the connection that I’ve had with someone and the story behind the lost tooth that interests me.
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Edmund read ultra-fast:
“.Ass - ;fuc gav fas no I will fu fuc fu her he wen fa, ha! Ha!
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I’m not ready for football. I’m not ready for it, but I live in a southern town that worships at its altar more devoutly than those suicidal beauties in James Wright’s great poem.
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For weeks I hadn’t been able to think straight, waiting to lay vision on those majestic, swooning breasts.
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After sex he would get on his old refurbished upright piano and always play that same song. We came to know it as the After-Sex Song.
It was really quite lovely, and touching. I think it made us all feel better around that building. Yeah, I remember t
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And if I lived a thousand lives...
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The increasingly furrowed lines on his forehead made her stomach clench.
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When his mother was all dressed up on New Year’s Eve, and his father, even thought they had tickets for the dance, announced to her he wasn’t going to go, Johnny had gone into his room, put on a white shirt, a dark suit, his dress shoes, and a clip-o
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we were traveling on wasn't necessarily going to go careening over any hill as fast as it was smashing into the blunt end of another cloudless hole like a cartoon cat chasing a cartoon mouse. It was huge like a stone wall that had its own…
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Rises monstrous out of the Baltoro GlacierPlaying poker with oxygen levelsPlays leap frog with embolisms.Malice and vanity join forces somurder guns the air even beforethe Death Zone. Down suits, bold and cockyregisters the climber's ambitions. The Serac , a…
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Where were you the night Katrina destroyed New Orleans? Oh, what a night... A week later, most of the city was still underwater, with hundreds or thousands of folks presumed dead, and tens of thousands…
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The rocks were pillows around her shorn head, the crimson stream running from her ears the only sign she had not chosen to lay down on them. Behind us, the rockface stood stoic; below us, the water lapped our feet.She held my hand in hers, giving me succor as I…
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1I'VE BEEN looking though books of paintings and I've been thinking …
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Your father, his father, and his before that, your mother, her mother, and all the way back have kept a tradition by chance or by will to each have a baby (or several) until…
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To a tech-savvy millennial, the definition of progress is a hands-free blowjob, and the real number is not how many men you’ve been with but how many minutes you’ve made them wait.
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The nerves are birds that guide us to feeling the loop and lift of reverie.
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I leapt up to retaliate when the clang of a distant door quieted my retesance. Shit, why am I so popular? I guess it was my turn to be thrown around like the guy in the Hotdog suit on the corner... Don't shoot the "Hotdog" guy... Please, please don't
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