Steve

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryNew in America 1 Steve615 years 3 weeks ago
Storynew hampshire spring waits Steve415 years 2 months ago
StoryNew Hampshire Spring is... Steve315 years 2 months ago
StorySeoul Garden Steve215 years 2 months ago
StoryHypocrite Steve215 years 2 months ago
StoryFirst Love Steve215 years 4 months ago
StoryIn wanting so much to be loved Steve815 years 4 months ago
StoryThe Tender Buds of April Silver Spun Sand3016 years 2 months ago
StoryMichael Jackson's Early Demise Steve317 years 3 days ago
StoryGrowl Steve217 years 1 week ago
StoryDrips of emotion hint at Steve417 years 1 week ago
StoryThe Game Steve217 years 3 weeks ago
StoryMary Steve517 years 3 weeks ago
StorySong of David Steve217 years 1 month ago
StoryCome Away With Me Silver Spun Sand2117 years 1 month ago
StoryMe, and Her with the Piercings Silver Spun Sand1617 years 1 month ago
StoryImpressions of South Korea: Conversations, Thoughts, Etc. Steve217 years 1 month ago
StoryImpressions of South Korea: Work Ethic 4 Steve217 years 1 month ago
StoryImpressions of South Korea: Work Ethic 1 Steve417 years 1 month ago
StoryNudely Explore: impressions of S. Korea Steve217 years 1 month ago
StoryIV Steve217 years 1 month ago
StoryIII Steve317 years 1 month ago
StoryII Steve517 years 1 month ago
StoryGabriel Freed Steve317 years 2 months ago

My stories

IN little, small pains

my body longs to sleep wounded, the lusty dream of America muddied by everyday experience. the long backbone of the goddess feeds longed for souls of optimism into me,
Cherry

Just a grammatical ornament 1

i got to tell you that i'm nothing important. i mean, i'm just a grammatical thing. the great thing is i can change from being a (.) to a (!) within seconds.

Nudely Close All Doors

it wasn't easy, the way i erased myself, part after part trait after trait i even erased my name. i even erased my vagina. there was no one to hate. there was no one who did evil unto me.

Fall Nights

the mad hairs of the wind are unloosed, they shake and drum eerily on the windows, almost an old clairvoyant knocking on the door to tell me something terrible. look at those eyes

Where has the ground gone?

Where is that warm-hearted feeling of security? Only dry seeds left out in the thunderstorm, no elevation of feeling to the eiffel tower of a long-lasting orgasm,

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