Tag: Writing
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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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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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Broken wanderers. Space mice. Toe signals. Crap melons. Divided thesaurus. Purple dinosaurs. Egg cabbage. Lettuce wraps. Feet sores. Mice house.… Read more.
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He was feeling restless in his overheated testicles on that day when everything changed. The man named Steeple resembled a… Read more.
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Harpooned harlequins cascade like dominoes in the limelight trick of light down on the piccadilly row of southern Santa Monaco… Read more.
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But then again, maybe she’ll get gunned down in the cafeteria just as she’s about to dig into her fruit… Read more.
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“She beat me with her soft white knuckles. They were so damn clean and tender and feminine.” Read more.
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Beauty is in basketslying all over the worlda tumbler of goodwilla shot glass of decencylined along the barof distant scars… Read more.
cereal after sex 