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headaches not worth having

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this is one of those "there are two kinds of people" sort of things.

I'm Just Not Interested

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in making your sad blown apart hearts rise up and squeeze out the kindness juices ever so sweetly anymore. Tried that. Didn't work out too well, not for me, wasn't a BIG time of waste, but did eat up some important wee…

Sonnet II

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When gratitude on lovers' lips rings false/ As flattery by courtly sycophants,/ Take care to well distinguish gold from dross/ So as to gild gladder remembrances.

A Tinder Ghost

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Do you know if you were actually speaking to me there?

The Empty Stool

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I walked up to the bar and sat down on the empty stool.“You don't want to sit there,” said the bartender.“Oh? Why not?” I replied.“It's haunted.”I laughed, but then stopped when I saw he was not laughing with me.“You're…

white lights

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the little white lights i see mean many different things to me

The Mad Ones

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On the parking lot of the bar, two in the afternoonYou notice the battered car, dented up body of a Ford escort,No hubcaps, plastic in two of windows,It yells a story to youA familiar storyHead into the bar2 O' clock in the afternoonIt's a nice, sunny, warm Saturday…

On All of Those Bad Guys in Movies

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What about the poor nobodies to somebodies being tossed like wet rags onto more wet rags?

Jasika by the Mountain

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There was the small wooden structure near the base of the mountain. It had weathered many storms and its walls talked about the scars of this. In the hills to the west various cries came out from feral animals that seemed to go linger that autumn. But it had been a…

Cockroaches From Heaven

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Cockroaches may be falling through the holes in the floorboards of heaven, but we will not be disturbed. We are agents, free and clear, even if a little bit mean. I want to quit worrying about money, but the angels upstairs won’t let me. The

My Wife, the Registry of Motor Vehicles

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We’ve been married for 24.1667 years now and–well–my wife was starting to remind me of a public building. The Registry of Motor Vehicles, to be precise.

On Strike in the City

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The first day of the Steamfitters and Pipewranglers Local 175 strike was exhilarating. Every man (accurate; there were no women in the union) showed his support outside the Willgarden High Rise Corporation's company headquarters on Fifth Avenue, shaking unreadable signs…

For You, For Me

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...mark every buoy...

Brother Dream

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It’s always daylight there My brother comes running down the sidewalk holding out his arms and calling my name He’s wearing suspenders. He’s gotten thinner in heaven He embraces me warmly wanting us to be friends I give up trying to resist

Arrivals and Departures

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Because of her I got there early, and like I figured, the train was late.

Swan Dance

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The house stood quietly in its surrounds. Unnerved by the beauty that enveloped it. Green forest trees loomed round the house protecting it from the outside world and in front of it lay a sweeping lake that disappeared into the trees on…

Encounter with Lover's Daughter

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What happens when you accidentally run into your lover's daughter on a plane.

Introspection

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The piss monster looks for clues of its childhood in the stains it leaves behind on the furniture.

I am very few of the things I used to be

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Focusing on reflections of clear lines on scummed glass, reflexes not quite as fast as they used to be, seeing things but not clearly, straining, these muscles worn out servos, grunting, can't quite bring things together, but why do this to yourself. More pointless than…

People Get Haircuts

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like they are trying to not get noticed by fickle death. It clearly marks them in a targeted way. Very ironic. Here's the only message I want you to ever have from me : quick, scramble like a monkey with a stolen banana in your tiny hairy…

The Pheasant

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Times they were a blazing, the Pheasant met God in Piccadilly meadows

Annabelle

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Jess threw her books on the bed then grabbed a notebook from a shelf and slammed it onto a writing table. It made a hard pop gunshot sound. Flinging open the book, a page tore. Her diaries were named Annabelle. It was with a blue felt tip pen that she wrote: …

77 Words About Nothing (Tangled)

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You carved my initials into your inner thigh with a jagged stem -

The Pitted Leg

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Pick, pick, pick. Scabrous flesh comes off. Goes into mouth. Picking like a drone. This is my leg. It tastes a little salty. Iron apparent. Partner sits across the room, on his laptop, begging. I can't stop widening the pit. Partner goes to kitchen, eats…

Wilbur

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This girl who looks about ten years old and her Pomeranian puppy are staring at my left arm and my right hand keeps filling out the form and I know I shouldn't but I say what she's been begging me to for the last half hour: It wasn't Wilbur. It was a woman. A girl,…

When We Knew

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That son of a bitch meant every word. Every filthy mouthful of insults that hit me was intentional and focused.

My Book of Frozen Ponds

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We broke our hearts rather than sit in your reversible seats with the plain brown paper packages tied on our laps, we did so together. You don't want to hear about that. It gets too close to the actual murder of love. I…

Selfie

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a few numbers/ and a handful of their operations,

Vivian Considers Vivian

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She's been considering her breasts more now.

Party in Sierra Madre Canyon

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“You’re just like me,” she said, as dawn was breaking. “You like sex.”