I feel sexy / as a sheared sheep
in the mirror the face you see yourself | I’m so fucking good at this | the eye is an aleph and every place is you
The idea behind this silencing was that new views might have an easier time taking hold if the old one weren't always barging into the fish schools and stamping on the new view's seeds before the seeds had latched.
The winding roads were scattered with sneakily merging lanes and work-ahead signs. This would have set my head in a whirl if I weren't driving. We spotted sage, turquoise, and navy blue hues on our
I think HH resented me for making him feel pedestrian, a cliché to himself; the male artist requesting a sort of self-censorship of the female artist on his behalf. (Image is everything and/but he wanted to control his; I had no right to it, to my version of it/him, in his male mind.)
Delve a little deeper into the mind of author Wilson Koewing
Finally she told him she was feeling the same way, but that she didn’t have the words for it. Just the emoji of the face with only eyes and nothing else.
The more lucid among them felt an uplift in his presence; as if, as one patient put it, they were passengers on a luxury ocean liner bound for Europe.
what to do with this boyfriend sized chasm?
fell into two traps—both of which I later found out were common coping mechanisms for those of us heavily affected by COVID isolation: a toxic relationship and belief in astrology
Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three you can hear, two smell, and one taste.
Then there he was, the cowboy whose name I forget, but remember as tall and lank and dressed in slim dark jeans he’d tucked into his boots unembarrassed. Having grown up in Texas, I understood everything about him in an instant on a level the British girl never could.
It was cold out.
He never did meet the kid.
He arrived in the city with an STD.
Don’t worry. Birdie closed her eyes. It’s fine.
There’s more than one way to conquer & that’s to be conquered.
I.
I started hoarding cash.
I needed about fifty dollars that could not be traced back to me, so I stashed bits here and there: $3 change from the ice cream shop, $4 paying for a round of
For months, I kept two words in my phone’s Notes app: “Victoria Brooks.” I’d hastily typed in the name during a lunch with writer, Jack Skelley, in Los Feliz. He promised I’d be a fan of her work.
I had been seeing this girl, Shelby, for about a month when I got married. To someone else.
The summer after graduating college sank me into a deep depression. Most of my friends moved out of
The Bible illustrates that considering God’s every word is not an endeavor steeped in
safety.
Sun on the creases of someone I love, shadows cut / our funny surface.
The 19th century word for “penis,” in one very well-written red-light district instruction manual for a battalion stationed in Moscow, is “instrument of physiological longing.”
There is a good case to be made that I am seeking amnesty in the United States because of the amount of paperwork required to simply exist in India
Bruce took one golf lesson at the local country club and rushed home to teach us what he knew: line your toes up in the direction you want to shoot, do not step as you swing like you do in baseball,
I stare into the drive-thru order box, the cars behind me now three deep.
Decision fatigue. That’s what my therapist calls it. Decision fatigue must be what renders me silent in the Taco Bell
