brighteyes
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My stories
I Will Be Tired Tomorrow
I will rise, obedient to the alarm, terrified of setting off late, of seeing the minute hand leech past the hour, wolfing down Rice Crispies, using the hands of a mannequin, sellotaped
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- 959 reads
Pongo #66
If I were listening to all this, I’d want to know what I did next. I’d also slap myself on hearing the answer.
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- 941 reads
Pongo #65
Casenotes (from subject's recreational record) Today I am on a tiger hunt, tight-swollen with revenge. At least, the idea of it. The sketch overdrawn in song, inked in by gang war movies. A claw is lodged deep in me from the last charge and I think I love it, prodding the wound. A barrel of curare drips into my eye. Someone holds a cup above my face, catches drops, shields, only failing when the vessel needs emptying – a split second burn. I punch her but she stays, I cut her, jab, spit, but she remains. Today I bombard a friend. Today
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- 917 reads
R v Cort
No, no, you see it wasn't kidnapping per se. He stopped at bus stops where women - no, listen.
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- 1011 reads
Pongo #64
Andaw I chicken out of brazening my way past security in broad daylight, and beep myself in after hours. The hospital is dark, and it smells like any other Hospital. Disinfectant squared. You'd think, given the price of the place, that they'd be pumping Pixx Gratitude through the ducts as a continual streaming reminder of money. The wards are dark, though the hall lights stay blazing in case of fire. A glance at the wall map reveals twelve possibilities for Maren's lair. I feel like a groupie sneaking backstage to blow the singer.
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- 924 reads