Tag Archives: writing

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Feeling Bad About the Names We Gave

I know your suicide like the start of a drumroll, the smell of rotting stars in my pockets rolling around between fingers. The wind played the holes in your body…

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Excavations

Whatever it was, I'd go first. You made me close my eyes and eat things out of your hand. There are stories where that's cute, but not when it's earthworms…

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Clay

The waves once crashed at my beckon call. The sun hid in the gray matter of the sky and dared not to show itself. No bird cast shadow no matter…