delapruch

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
Storypermission delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe man with the sock tattoos delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storytransitory madness delapruch012 years 9 months ago
StoryOn Family delapruch112 years 9 months ago
StoryS to the I to the N delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storynot an exit delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe forgetful delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe comfort in talking shop delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storyreasons behind the bullets delapruch112 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Rant delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe overnight stock person delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe garbage man delapruch012 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Foxhole delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe disappearing veil of christian politeness delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storyrupey’s sob story delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storyshites & giggles delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe bigger they are... delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storystrange kindnesses delapruch112 years 9 months ago
Storyode to stains delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe great american witch hunt delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storyout of the orifice of sheer boredom delapruch112 years 9 months ago
Storyquinze delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storytraffic ticket delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storyt delapruch012 years 9 months ago
Storythe suicidal soldier delapruch212 years 9 months ago

My stories

ways of living VII.

rather than be seen as “the type that gets angry,” as “the type that loses his/her cool,” as “the misanthrope,” “the psychotic,” “the miserable bitch,” “the

our beloved P.I.C

how many people in the good ol’ us of a are currently in prison? how much profit does the good ol’ us of a need this year? how many people does corporate america have to

glimpses

if you had the choice (and this writer is not saying that you have any choice whatsoever---but for the sake of getting to the end of this piece…) to wake up tomorrow morning &

the emotive votive

sits there flickering with immense fragrance, light dancing amongst the warmth of the “holidays”, be them pine to fill the room like a forest, be them apple & cinnamon to announce that

vivication

rambling with eyes wide cursing oneself again traveling the tracks of routine & coming up empty handed again, watching the clock tick the way that frustrates &

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