Writing
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“I want you to come on that man’s head,” she says. Open-mouthed while imagining what it would be like to play on the slide in my grandparents’ old garden again, I don’t hear her words. Well, I do, but they don’t register. “Did you hear me?” This time the words resonate. It takes a few… Read more
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Not vodka but pop. Neither cigarettes nor cigars, but rolled up post-it notes soggy after being chewed by soft, childish lips. Not the lips of the kids I went to school with, though. They’re all old now—old like forgotten oranges in a Christmas stocking—one that’s been tucked away for several months in a basement belonging… Read more
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Stroking me off with magical fingers that had her once touted as a child prodigy on the piano, I grind my teeth as she takes me to the precipice of a place she’s taken me so many times before. Shaking as the ground swirls beneath me, I hold onto the branch above with the tips… Read more
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The school from my childhood is now gone, along with most other places I roamed. On the horizon, though, in this light, and in this time, I can see them quite clearly. I know they’re not really there, but as the tingle in my bones grows, and the ringing in my ears reaches a crescendo,… Read more
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The words of my mother shift from a wish for me to rise to a desire to see me become like the trees, and as she sings, Meeko begins to sing, too. Their voices entwine to become one, and as Meeko masturbates me into a state of spiritual bliss, I feel the kiss of mother… Read more
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Hot coffee, a slice of toast, and a cigarette that drips from fingers that only last night danced across a belly full of seed. Me mine and yours. Have you ever seen Jaws 2? Have you ever seen a guy sprawled out on a Brazilian sidewalk with his brains leaking from a hole in his… Read more
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Tilting back my head, I see from the side of my eye a part of the town of which I haven’t stepped foot in for years. Not since I was that kooky child emerging from the bars of his womb-like crib. The streets remain the same, as do the buildings, but times have changed. I… Read more
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On a path in a town with many buildings are a series of caves of which I once visited in my youth. The caves were connected by a series of narrow tunnels. It was cold, and I was hormonal. The caves were of significant, historical value. The only lasting impression they had on me was… Read more
