• Foodcourt

    He sits on the mocha-brown wood and watches the angst-ridden crowd sweep by like the dust he used to sweep when the back still held. (There is no end to them.) He stays unperturbed in ...

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  • Stone

    Stolen from the aria Of crashing forest waters, Ripped like a body's heart; A-bleeding A stone. Stories of war shattered Long since; Dead hearts wielding World War II's disease Inside. From ...

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  • Other

    I was the one Who looked at you from way across the room The one who felt your pain And never gave it back I cared not If you can’t even see Just by spirit Be with me I was the girl Who felt ...

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  • Jihad: Another Sunday Morning

    reckoning has come my mama tells me that I am a heretic that I’d rather wear my unwashed denim cut-offs than kiss the feet of elevated saints Sunday morn is a struggle when I’d rather keep ...

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    Jihad: Another Sunday Morning
  • A Fat Girl Thing

    hanging over a hunk of ham, of flesh a slice of the delicatessen in my fever dreams slices, and chunks ripples of sinfully sweet saccharine and corn dripping and my senses climax ...

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    A Fat Girl Thing

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