I am a person going through the adolescence stage of life.
In an adults eyes I am a teenager, a sincere insult thanks to the media.
Big Stories in Two Little Sentences
I am a person going through the adolescence stage of life.
In an adults eyes I am a teenager, a sincere insult thanks to the media.
Ice-ages are nothing to be afraid of because we’ve all experienced them.
Facing away from each other in bed, a million miles between you and someone who once said they loved you.
They’re coming in on big waves in high tide, translucent, bubble-shaped, seemingly inert,
clinging to ice plant, debris, litter, on the backs of other sea life, scurrying in the sand, burying themselves deep, nourished on sand life, hydrated on salt water absorbed through porous membranes.
Poisonous to touch, impossible to destroy, emerging as the new life, the new species from mother water, arriving simultaneously on seven continents.
They said ‘artistic feminist expressions’.
I said ‘artistic feminist impressions’.
Ok, I confess!
I filled your room with balloons.
So putting golden rings around your neck can make it appear longer.
I wonder what else a guy could put golden rings around?
I laugh when I read “they chose indie over mainstream” or something like that.
They choose indie the same way people choose poverty.
Chocolate dog fetches his caramel ball.
And he is happy.
Got born.
Did little.
He promised to love her no matter what her past is, and so they made love for the first time. After the libido subsided, and while they lay spent in bed, she confessed that she has herpes.
She wanted to be tied up which I thought was incredibly kinky.
Turns out she was just lazy.
I’ll be your cherry and you can be my strawberry.
We’ll elope and marry and then what will our parentberries do?
To measure time is to measure one of mans’ greatest devices. Should you destroy this device, then you are left with complete harmony.
“For the absolutely last time, will you stop playing with that chainsaw!”
“Sorry”, replied Pinocchio.
All the thousands and thousands of half decisions I barely made eventually accumulated.
And now here I am, a puppet whisperer.
They met online, emailed, talked on the phone for over a year, and finally, they were going to meet. Her heart pounded as she sat waiting, her hand in her pocket on the gun she would use to kill the man who had lured her baby sister to her death.
It was a dead sheep covered in rose petals and surrounded in empty soup cans.
Modern art, she scoffed.
I’d love to be with you!
(You’re not going to get fat are you?)
Baby, don’t hurt me.
Don’t hurt me, no more.
Don’t be afraid to call if you need anything.
A silver stake for example.