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A prayer for the bored

This is a prayer for the bored sitting, becalmed in the day, endlessly at 10.17, forever only one third of the way into something, whatever that something is. These words are for those

isn't anything

isn’t anything car scissors at the crossroads, have sheared the morning, from the end of night and the blue white ghost moon, heavy fogged and branch bound,
Story of the week

the only thing worse than leaving

I'm not sure if it works as-written. It may be a bit hard to read, but it's how it came to me and for now it's how it will stay.

Electric Sheep

Do androids dream of electric sheep?

A Dystopians Story: Book one The Jump

How I got here isn't important, why isn't either, only the people I hurt on my way do. My name is Eve.

Office Blues

A man's glorious moment of resignation arrives...

Dancin’ Some Mor’

the whole plan of it somethin’ else on her mind

Toxic Love

Something said in hopefully a different way.

America at Last – Part 10

Routine is comforting, but comfort ain’t everything.

The Blue Rose

A blue rose, is the ocean; all its shark-fins are its thorns; all its waves, its bright blue petals that turn crimson in the dawn.
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Hellcat

HELLCAT She said she loved me dearly that could not be denied But could not leave her pussy cat. ’ Oh I love cats,’ I lied So I agreed, I had no choice and she became my bride

February Waits

February’s waiting; she’s waiting for the spring; for a blue sky in the heavens and the flowers opening. She’s waiting like a Helen for her bright Ulysses sun

February Snowflakes

Snowflakes tip-toe, lightly, on the air like white fairies dancing everywhere; land like kisses on my nose and hair then, like magic, they all disappear.

CAT

Catlike...

Perfectly Natural ..

A quick glance of something gorgeous can make your day ..

Everything is old

Everything is old The world has a tiredness about it Like Fukayama was right And everything has been done

Solar.

I remembered the words "We are responsible for those we tame." So what was there to say of those we create?

Impure.

Piece of paper, pure as fresh snow... 'tis my playground.

Silent cries.

Nothing can be a worse torture then the fact that i can not stop loving you no matter what.

not in service

not in service the time now, in my heart, is half past done. you drummed my beat irregular, from across the street. now, stacked up high with leaving intentions, i am moving,

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