I'm grappling with an inclination to set your hips at a declination and try to manage an erection despite the many beers I just feel an urge to explore where countless others have gone before I'll rock your world down to the core before I pass out on your chest I can still make this magical the air is thick with romance, my belt is mired in my pants why does something feel damp? I'd tell you the moon is beautiful but that light is just an old ikea lamp This night is cosmic, ethereal, ...

a road cone in the middle of the street clearly a statement a feeling of fiery isolation set against the post-war-industrial-complex with its hard-black-surfaces optimizing mother nature for your morning meeting bright orange against stale concrete hazard signs, klaxons on wooden legs visible, calculating, targeted it's modern. Maybe post-modern maybe pseudo-post-haute-modern i am flailing in the orb, a cradle of warning neurons spun in the dazzling orange centrifuge do we measure art in bru...

The Zeitgeist The text message arrived without warning, catching Ryan mid-sip while he sat in his living room, indolently enjoying an unemployed Friday. "Well Fuck me, I'm fired" Ryan leveraged an eyebrow about midway up; it was the most interest that he had showed in anything during his two weeks of unemployment. He scanned the top of the screen for the name of the sender, and was surprised to find that it was from one of his most charming friends, Denise. He wondered how Denise had possibly...

I was walking that night. Alone. So Alone. SO ALONE! I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was alone. And walking too. It was night time. I don't know what is is about that last block, it always makes me feel over dramatic. Something in the air maybe? A pestilent wind whipped at my nostrils. my eyes watered like the silvery Nile my jacket swept up over my nose a shield of Perseus against the Gorgon smell a raging poison i could not quell. So I walked faster. I don't know what it is about t...

I am a reader by trade. Reading is in my blood, and it is in my history. My father was a reader, my college degree is in reading, and a man who enjoyed reading killed my father when I was a boy. I am surely equipped with the means and motive to read most anything. And it is to this point that I must address several complaints I have found in my recent readings. Primarily, there is a shortage of vowels. The reader of English will of course be given to protest, but I plead that you hear me out...

I was walking that night. Alone. So Alone. SO ALONE! I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was alone. And walking too. It was night time. I don't know what is is about that last block, it always makes me feel over dramatic. Something in the air maybe? A pestilent wind whipped at my nostrils. My olfactories engorged, my eyes watered like the silvery Nile my jacket swept up over my nose protection, a shield of Perseus against the Gorgon smell a raging poison i could not quell. So I walked fa...

Maria Jabez was a woman. She was a single woman. She wasn't always a single woman, but she was now. Maria had 3 children, a small family by the standards of her community. Unlike other families in her community, Maria had managed to send all of her children to college, and good jobs after that. As a result, all of her children had moved very far away, and visited her exactly twice a year. They were not bad children; they called once a month, they remembered birthdays, and they would support h...