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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Forum topic | what ya readin' ? | anna_tempt | 12 | 20 years 5 months ago |
| Forum topic | The chicken at the door by Megan | mykle | 10 | 20 years 5 months ago |
| Forum topic | Non-Joke... by Jack Cade | pepsoid | 2 | 20 years 5 months ago |
| Forum topic | Raver - Spack | drew_gummerson | 3 | 20 years 6 months ago |
| Forum topic | The warm woman by SPAN | Yutka | 1 | 20 years 6 months ago |
| Forum topic | Phoenix: Enzo | Soraia Almeida | 9 | 20 years 6 months ago |
| Forum topic | Oh Holy Night by Fergal | mykle | 19 | 20 years 6 months ago |
| Forum topic | If you had to save just one piece of writing on ABCtales from a monster that was eating all the stories and poems in the world.. | markbrown | 35 | 20 years 6 months ago |
| Forum topic | Conserve with Grandma | Noticeboard | 5 | 20 years 6 months ago |
| Forum topic | C & G | drew_gummerson | 13 | 20 years 6 months ago |
| Forum topic | Sudden Sailing | bizz | 7 | 20 years 7 months ago |
| Forum topic | Write / Don't Write | rokkitnite | 32 | 20 years 7 months ago |
| Forum topic | Rokkitnite - tricky as stilt sex? | mcmanaman | 13 | 20 years 7 months ago |
| Forum topic | List your friends by mcmanaman | tcook | 3 | 20 years 7 months ago |
My stories
Admission
The worst secret you know should be as taboo as admitting to your mum that you imagined her face when you were born, and wondered if she split.
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- 2073 reads
Prelude to a grope
This is a speed poem, For the record, if anyone can figure out what is going on in the poem, it did not happen to me. It did however happen to a close friend. It is sad that I felt the need to justify, but there you go.
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- 2158 reads
Meanwhile at the bar a drunkard muses
She offered me her handbag as a history, each drink lodged her looser. She threw out tears, teabags, tissues, mistletoe, a migrane, dismorphic disorders, photos of her 3 sons and lipstick.
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- 1984 reads
I live in a case of cloth
I live in a case of cloth, every day swaddles me closer to my breasts, to my breathing. I leave the house with my butter bean eyes, casseroling the sky, mostly looking out for sin. People often ask me if the abacus under my eyes,
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- 2090 reads
Maybe I mistook you
Maybe, the girl in the green top at Cambridge station, whose head I watched egg whisk into the crowd, wasn't you. On the train, I see your face in the flat black earth. I thread whole copses of trees through your hair
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- 1739 reads