delapruch

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
Storypermission delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe man with the sock tattoos delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storytransitory madness delapruch013 years 1 day ago
StoryOn Family delapruch113 years 1 day ago
StoryS to the I to the N delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storynot an exit delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe forgetful delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe comfort in talking shop delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storyreasons behind the bullets delapruch113 years 1 day ago
StoryThe Rant delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe overnight stock person delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe garbage man delapruch013 years 1 day ago
StoryThe Foxhole delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe disappearing veil of christian politeness delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storyrupey’s sob story delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storyshites & giggles delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe bigger they are... delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storystrange kindnesses delapruch113 years 1 day ago
Storyode to stains delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe great american witch hunt delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storyout of the orifice of sheer boredom delapruch113 years 1 day ago
Storyquinze delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storytraffic ticket delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storyt delapruch013 years 1 day ago
Storythe suicidal soldier delapruch213 years 1 day 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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