My Shoes Are Ruined and You Said Nothing
Sean Turner McLeod
You are standing on an indifferent platform in Preston Station and a little black spaniel is making unbreaking eye-contact with you as he pisses on your leg.
You are standing on an indifferent platform in Preston Station and a little black spaniel is making unbreaking eye-contact with you as he pisses on your leg.
Maybe you didn’t recognize me, me with longer hair, growing tits, a new name.
She was going up to Poughkeepsie to see a girl she had met on the internet who, promisingly, shared her passion for Gary Larson comics.
Two men smoking cigarettes on Bleecker could mean anything
to each other.
Fifteen years before my autism diagnosis - the year I chopped off all my hair with jagged scissors - I hid a not inconsequential baggie of hash in my dorm room closet. I was, as always, trying to
Do you remember the names of everyone you swallow
Here’s the plan: we’ll become high-class prostitutes. “Courtesans,” I say, “like ancient Greece.”
Jay arrived once a week, every week, for sex. He was a dental student, worked Wednesdays at a clinic near my house so it was easy for him to call to see if I was free. I made sure that I was. He
tree tree tree tree calvin calv hobbes
I know that I should be sad, or at least look sad, or somber, as I go through the things in Johnny’s room.
A man was arrested for creating a labyrinth in an IKEA.
doesn’t know how to give a PROPER blowjob
The spittle
of the sea
otherwise known as Jamaica Pond
dries hard on her eros:erring:elbow still deeper
resonating
in her
I don’t respond and two hours later he sends a photo of the dog.
Alice sighs in the way only British people can sigh. Maybe it’s all the rain they have inhaled.
We went back and forth, hyping each other up, talking about the best summer of our lives and how we would never be this young again and if we pet an alpaca everyone would be jealous.
Wind, always strongest by water, whistles and whooshes, knocks a girl off her feet.
I am searching for the type of room that would change my life if I lived there, you know the one.
“Bandeau,” I type into the Tumblr search bar. The results load like a quilt of skin.
I'm waiting for influenza in Virginia. Or the taste of something metal.