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Death at Dinner

Posted by on Jan 10, 2013

Death at Dinner

Here they sat in remanded silence where she loved him a little more and he hated her a little less. Her lips weren’t wriggling like earthworms in the rain anymore. It was now that her mouth was open and her words no longer seemed to vaporize penetrating his every pore. Those vacuous spaces between words and teeth would not surpass his anticipations. At last the wonder and awe uprooting...

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A Weekend In M.J.

Posted by on Jan 10, 2013

A Weekend In M.J.

I was born a prisoner in your dungeon of fish Solitary confinement underneath your dress. I could be your snaggle tooth whore, your cross eyed hooker, or your hair-lip courtezan. We could dance in the rain wearing only bread bags on our feet. Over lunch we could discuss the relationship between wonton soup and brains. We would make love like declawed cats and argue like ducks guarding their...

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