• Shoes

    The soles antediluvian of my hollow being sustain with silent patience, or patient silence, the blunt end of your insecurities and neuroses. Have you ever thought of the beatings I get from ...

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    Shoes
  • 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
  • Fudge

    I. Dribbling dribbling against the hardcourt of your upper-lip stubble in dark brown streaks and streaky white. II. Rivulets of hot fudge sundae toppings dispensed as circular tracks or ...

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    Fudge
  • Who Cares

    I live this strange little existence--I don't even know what it's supposed to be. Strangled, laden with shattered stuff: fragments of a heart once beating and pumping tangy blood. I breathe ...

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    Who Cares

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