sawmillwoods's profile
AGE:
26
LOC: Suitland, MD
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 21
LOC: Suitland, MD
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 21
guy with an h needle tried to stab me once while yelling, “i got aids muthafucka”. was raised catholic. found nihilism at 14 and the deathly ill green ghosts of the heart at 18. ran away from home to europe, from europe to home, and from myself to find i was no further than before. goddamned charm city. one woman left me for god, another for her friend emily. i like my coffee black. met a bear on lsd. smoke camel lights. am a passive aggressive asshole. work in a night club. ride a bike. i eat, sleep, drink too much, read, and poop. that’s about it.
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grandma is root canal avec tank boots with teeth a year long i bite my tongue swallow my pride open my mouth and plant both feet firmly inside 'i hate you' 'i hate you too' 'there is no beauty in this world without you' 'bah, grandpa...... bah'
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grandma buys a vacuum cleaner i buy a bottle of red grandma buys a full length mirror i buy cigarettes and a box of condoms i've not slept in days just vacuuming and smoking on the front porch sartre says life is absurd and hell is other people i think he just needed a good lay with sweat and finger creeping toward the butt hole
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5 Reviews
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foot to meter along the shore a long walk to a small shop off the rue des etats-unis saint poopsmith with a fistfull of francs throw it at your childhood throw it at a cop a banker a dead-beat god or an awkward sex a cowboy with a mini-van throw it at our reflection and see if we get paid
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5 Reviews
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the saint poopsmith stands laceless shoes and beltless pants in hand god damnit saint poopsmith 'i learned a great deal in college' he says, 'but got educated in the slammer' saint poopsmith could teach the ladies a thing or two about hubris god danmit saint poopsmith
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Version 4
2 Reviews
3 Comments
Uncle Charlie- a grandma short story Grandma is wearing her black jeans. It must be Tuesday. The sober light of morning falls through the kitchen window upon the brown burnt linoleum floor, fractalized by an old blown glass vase on the window sill. Distilled yet brilliant blue and green swaths bathe the cabinets and sink, tarnished with the gossamer of a hundred thousand cigarettes. She’s got one lit, clinging to her lips like the last warm embrace of empty lovers, smoke caressing her haggar...
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I'm out for a smoke. Please stay out of my drawer of suicide notes while i'm gone.
Locked
well the last paragraph was good. i know it's flash fiction, but i have no reason to care about these characters and their deaths. i think it was written well, - 'The remarked'- should be 'they remarked'. some commas i think are missing. i did like the foreshadowing in the first paragraph, the shadows growing. i think you have talent, this piece just didn't grab me, though. thanks, gigi
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