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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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I love Hooters. Best cheese steak in town in my opinion.
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...bush tail beside him his closest comfort next to the genes...
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I left Iowa in august when the air was thick and sticky. I had been there three years minus a few days when the boy I'd been sleeping with packed almost everything I owned into my car and waved goodbye. In Baltimore I had few friends and a job teaching English at a…
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Now, we can argue about how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, but there is no doubt that it takes eight spritzes of Scrubbing Bubbles bathroom cleaner, three spritzes of Lime-Away, and then a 30 second spray of Oust to incapacitat
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He had a lean build, except, remarkably, his midsection was perfectly barrel-like. As if he kept an alien lifeform in his belly, cultivated by years of Pabst and Yuengling transfusions.
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Love me like a crutch
Love me when I'm strong
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Desert Storm, an Infrared Dream/Poem by the late David Avidan
On January 17, 1991 I woke up at 02:45 from a neo-surreal dream with a slight not very serious feeling of suffocation a pre-asthma attack instantly stifled with the inhalation of Ventolin an
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Feeding you a taste of croissant
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I
A sparklerman zig-zagged across the skies, re-arranging stars in its path. How bright his stick-like and jaggy limbs twinkle, I noticed; even noticing my surprise. No longer 'simply sitting', I was.
'It is time' I mumbled. The room was melting, si
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Where we’ve penned heart shaped question marks, seeds sprouting bowed heads, a congregation of confused supplicants.
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"You gonna be old before you're old," my father had told her.
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Our disappearance would register/
as the movement of a sand grain/
on a windy beach full of sand.
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beckoning with citrus streaks blue cobbled streets/and stuccos lit with gold lamps guide strollers here/to Place du Forum in Arles and this café . . .
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Beautiful, he thinks, as he taps the ash of his cigarette over the balcony, but this is not good enough.
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In the words of that great philosopher Hunter S. Thompson, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
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Once you descend, the third rail/
hums its invitation
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inside i know my heart rattles
cause outside i'm only seeing
that the truth is in tatters
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people keep trying to get me/ "out of the house"./ they see fun in me, and cool in me,/ and want to spend time with me,/ and i am flattered most sincerely./
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The last chick in the nest
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You can't always be everything
you were expected to be
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I am only ever
What you seem to be
Without the leverage
Of sweet reality
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I may as well have been sleepwalking. Either way, I had no opportunity to admire the moonlight flooding into the long corridors, illuminating the stag heads and painted cheeks of long-dead ancestors.
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we all die from the bottom up
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The ambient sound wheezes on.
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About three dozen people, the doctor told him, dwelt in the small village until there had been a dry spell—a drought the likes of which no one in the region had ever seen before. Theories abounded as to the cause of the drought as theories do: a curse by
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I remember the first & only time I parachuted it was 1964 my 16th birthday a rite of passage if you will from the old man an aerospace engineer & former WWII B24 bomber pilot I practice-jumped from oil barrels taught how to fall back then when the time came…
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I am confused by your new paper-doll look, btw. Could you please look regular again by Thursday?
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the epiphany at the mast at midnight is not the same at dawn
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