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Reverend Peter Roman could stand it no more. He stopped his speech. He felt a fire burning through him, a hatred for humanity and all the weaknesses of beings not perfect before God. He stood a long while, staring at the congregation. Then, he slowly spok
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...she did wish she lived somewhere in Ancient Rome, and from one of those seven hills, perhaps during sunset, she would resolve to roll down and meet the flaming orb just as it descended so she would dissolve into embers and ash...
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There’s something Dad’s been telling us
that I don’t think is true
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Love is easy. Lazy. Fickle.
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-Someone could have boosted this easy as pie, Ben said to himself.
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Life strikes another blow and away I go: back to the cave to sleep, read, write, dream, soothed by rocking chair therapy, spend hours on hours looking at photo memories, lighting incense and candles, crying, howling out the injustices smothering me. …
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“We have flown the air like birds and swum the sea like fishes, but have yet to learn the simple act of walking the earth like brothers.”
― Martin Luther King Jr.
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Rob slogged down First as November winds tore right on through him that Tuesday at four o'clock in the morning, letting him know that he was the only man left on the face of the whole fucking planet. Except for an old, broke,…
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They've put down roots under the dome. Want to push through the ceiling, blot out the sun. I have other plans.
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You can have two threes, or three twos. I hear the beat both ways. It goes back and forth in my head, like magic, transforming from one to the other and back again. And I am learning the basics of music theory, and painting geometric shapes with primary colors. I am…
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She connects to you
via snarling vines
& worm-woven tunnels.
Drops Roman numerals
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Welcome to the world of (un)reality television. He/she who dies with the most stories wins. Another kind of religion. The Church of Being Famous For Whatever.
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“Now, “Pour Some Sugar on Me” is a hit of the eighties.”
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He and Nick got a long very well, and would speak about things for hours until the morning came; and Betsy would supply them with food and coffee, and clever sayings all the while Johnny watched it all over. Tonight though, they had watched La Rafle, and
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You have at least
an intermittent belief.
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The worm was stabbed where two rivers branch:/ the thing that would slay was slain.
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"Man, I'd love to do coke chopped up with the remains of this motherfucker," he said as the unicorn's head smacked against the screen of his netbook for the 12,364th time.
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The rat had been informed, assured, cajoled in order to gain his assent—duly lied to, in other words, by the researchers with not one tear of remorse, with no smudge or smear of conscience . . .
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perhaps I am only being transported not for replacement but for repair
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i think god composed afternoons with crayons
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He started to concentrate on the music again. It was the album with the crazy picture of Monk on the cover, with a machine gun over his shoulder, a tied-up Gestapo officer and a female resistance fighter standing next to—a cow.
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It’s not that cold but the cold that is/
penetrates layered cloth and soft skin/
to chill the blood in its capillaries
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I considered my choices, then asked the question that has brought my wife so much pain over the years. "Which is cheaper?"
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When nothing's coming in All I have are fragments Cloudy memories Uncompleted projects Disappointments loom large and threaten to define me I am only as good as what I produce And now I feel empty So how do I shine How do I find the spark that…
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Originally published on Six Sentences:He walked out of the hotel lobby into the pre-dawn night and thought about another woman, a pretty Spanish woman, not the woman he'd just kissed in a hotel, and a night he'd spent with her in Portugal, wanting each other desperately,…
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Ah we just sat on the flat roof of the school and looked out at what was beyond because sometimes there is nothin' to do but sit on a flat roof of a school and look out at what is beyond. Going up there I had told him to be careful with the bag because if he didn't take…
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There was something about the boy that made me uneasy. Maybe it was the reverse widow's peak on his forehead or the way he wiped away his snot with the back of his hand. It could have been his red flannel shirt that reminded me of the hillbillies from the mountain…
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