Most read stories

a girl's legs stirring the air

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I dreamt my legs were stirring the air up behind your back, as you lay between my thighs. Stirring the air repetitively, like a sea anemone stirring the water to feed the soul, the hunger between the legs and arms, for new life. Stirring up the salt

He Pressed 9. I Was 10.

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"Excuse me. I believe you have a little something falling from your right nostril there," he said, pointing with his pinky.

Uncertainty Principle

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Aleister Crowley walks in and all of a sudden the bar's filled with angels and demons and pagan things. Wood nymphs and stuff like that. Wittgenstein, to his credit, keeps cool. He just stands over there next to the dart machine, pointing at things and naming them. Like…

Bananas

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Dog winged the monkey's gerdonderplonk just past ceremony. Winkle-wizzened water garglers awoke wanderjanked while apple-gated confederates slept on. Rusty pipe smack-down cancelled water lily gumbo's two o'clock and Patsy sang Crazy for the millionth time.…

Six or Eight Legs

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I killed it. Didn't even relocate it back to its outdoor home, as I had work to do. This is being human.

Horror pt. 1

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Dust and blood and disgust

Stationcity Drums

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Deep in Stationcity they began to drum.

A Tinder Ghost

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

Nemesis' Rainbow

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The moon has a cloud pass before it. The strop has a razor pulled up-and-down, up-and-down, up and down against it.

The Audacity of My Ass

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But then there were car windows bashed out on both sides Glass on the ground like Kristallnacht

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…

Trope City

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If the pen travels over a sheet of paper, it is not long before a metaphor appears. A fast, beautiful metaphor like friendship, or deformity. Think of the pen as a penis and the ink as semen. I just sit and laugh. Time impregnates an opportunity and a lon

The Squirrel that Ate Cincinnati

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The drug that brought me here is orange and opposable as a thumb. Therefore, send me a dollar and I will swim in your beautiful gaze like a new experience. We can be caviar together and create metaphors for the stars.

Good (Enough)

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Maybe I am good

I spend my free time writing epitaphs

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I invented a game called Church & State

Austin, 22

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A thrill seeker before midnight - but closer to twilight ...

Art Survives

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Forget the salt erasure of Carthage,/ all the Meso-American artifacts/ smelted to float the Armada

Paradise Within

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On the back porch of the world, the sun kisses my laughter, Giving me the silent strength to separate before from the after. Misunderstood soil shyly strikes up a conversation. And I engage my soul, lost in aimless contemplation. …

The Back Burner

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Below them, the clag shears open in irregular patches, the lights of Seattle resolving themselves through the thinning overcast then vanishing again by turns.

For You, For Me

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...mark every buoy...

A Journal of the Plague Year: Day 289: Valedictory for a Clown

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the end of this journal

New Story In PANK

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The gecko instinctively knew that if he moved, he was dead.

Fill In the Void

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I’m not in the habit of just hanging out on the corner handing out “free stuff,” you know. I figured it was going to cost you. But I was wrong. It cost me instead. You can only float near the ceiling when you’ve become an emptied vessel. No hope or

Killing Dennis Gauda II: Dennis Gauda Strikes Back

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“That's Governor Gauda to you, punk!” This is the line from my speech “Killing Dennis Gauda.” The speech lost the Tall Tales competition at the division level, but I was unfortunate to have a chance to do this speech for Dennis Gauda …

Who you pretended to be

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Who You Pretended To Be I only appeared to belong to my mother --Jane Kenyon I almost died when Ulysses sailed leaving behind the dowager queen complaining of processed sugar as Grandfather's limousine tooled to Saks to browse brassieres…

The Year of the Horse

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“She's the year of the horse,” Metri said as he peeled his dirty head from the bed, his hair was as matted as a racoon tale. It was as wild as a wild animal and smelled like body odor with a hint of blood. He slid his scabbed hands up to his chest as if to…

headaches not worth having

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

Second Nature

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Women can often be found Sizing up each others’ tits

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…

Phantom

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There is an obstacle, as if truth has a place of its own. This is the phantom where my roommate turns off her headlights Upstate, while we’re singing: No more, No more, stay as you are.