Stories tagged love

High Definitions

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"What the hell does profligate mean?!" He shouted.

Young Skin

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“And you can fuck off,” I said. Only once, twice, maybe three times a year did I watch television. I would grow quietly keen on some kind of miraculous event like the Olympics. I had my dinner on my lap & because I’m deaf I would read the subtit

A Science Experiment Called LOVE

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Scars shine like jewelry. Under the microscope of introspection. Two opposite poles possess positive and negative. all along the borderline between the true and false.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, Chapter 4

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I put on my one suit to impress the landlord. I made up a story that I was a trust-funder and Allison was my newly-wed wife and we had just arrived in California to start a relaxed life of luxury and yachting. We didn’t need to work because of this stea

Doctor, My Eyes

735735 views33 comments00 favs was just my heart stnging through my eyes...

Wild Dreams Of Reality, 3

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The following day, I was so nervous that I decided to have a drink to keep a lid on my nerves. It wasn't even noon yet. They say that's when you know it's getting bad, and that drinking has become a problem. But I hadn't gone out with anyone in over fi

A Christmas Spaghetti

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"Hmm. What did you call these again?" Reaching into the musty, wrinkled, cardboard box he pulled out a sample. Tiny Christmas lights on green cord with crumpled strands of interspersed silver tinsel hung like so much seaweed from his hand. "Fairy-

His Name Was Do Re Mi

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I unzip him out of skin. Find what is dark and black inside. Mistake jutting spine for zipper grooves.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 1

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I lived for a time on Red Square in Berkeley. You may have heard of it. It was run by Von Rotten (that’s just plain Von), who was considered the Vladimir Lenin of the Foul Language Movement of Poetry (FLMP, pronounced “Flimp,” sometimes “Flump,”

Noche de las Ranas

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He pushed aside the netting and trained the flashlight on the dripping courtyard. Rivers ran off the wide pinanona leaves, surged through fissures in the crumbling wall.

seven pages left

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secretly I blame you for the clouds


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What? No, no, where did my world go? I was in the middle of… something. What's going on? What's stroking my face?


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'That November I washed my hair with rabbit's blood -"

Wild Dreams of Reality, 4

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It was days before Parker and I could even get up the nerve to look in each others' direction at the cafe. We kept trying to avoid the other's glance. But after a time things began to soften between us. I could sense it the day the tension began to eas

Love Letters

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I saw your soul like flesh through négligée, enigma moulding treasure from okay.