Author: Aaron Echoes August
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There was a heart in Central Park. It was lying there in the curled leaves and the grass saying goodnight.… Read more.
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He made it with her in the bathtub because she was bleeding. That animal. That gyrating, groaning animal. It was… Read more.
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These nerves are voiceferous and restless, like a baby with Batman, a highball hangman, make them speak, red walls with… Read more.
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An empty Coke bottle sits on a worn, brown Formica table in a restaurant booth. The resting back and seat… Read more.
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A long morning yawns its mallow yellow yawn out there on the grass where the trees and the heart live,… Read more.
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Her cactus bed smelled like butter nectar. She swears that lying down on the thorns helps her back, yet all… Read more.
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And there I was, raspy as a ghost lost in time, so drunk on the night that I tried to… Read more.
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He had a wandering image that followed him, something about ravioli in a lonely café somewhere on the other side… Read more.
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The Salaman stood inside a half-circle shower stall made of smooth zoo stone and let the water spray upon him.… Read more.
