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An Act of PurpleMothering large birds,multiple purple layersgrowing all taller. A Hint of WhiteThey were once off white,yellow the mystery puzzle,brittle branches form.The Birth of SilverClose your eyes and open,believe in silver crystals,are often healing. A Feeling of BlueSadness does not meanyou are lost in the water,the sky is above.
Another StrandDark brown remains deadpushed out by another strandcolorless meaning.Drowning SorrowsFat teardrops fallingplopping onto sinful palmsheavy burden gone. Many ForcesCircling aroundgetting low to the stone groundenergy is found. Worthy of the CenterBite deep and listendrink the tall glass of clear juicesleep for the answer. Grave DiggingBones pay countless billshands forced to dig six feet downskeletons
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company Publication Date: September 2010 Number of Pages: 169 David Sedaris is the master of sarcasm and wit wrapped in humor and truth. This collection of short stories is a fast read. I bought this at a used bookstore only to make it more used by spilling water on the cover.
If you want to learn the origin of late night, the evolution of late-night programming, and the current state of late-night programming, this documentary series covers all of the subjects and more. From Mary Kay Stearns and Steve Allen, Ernie Kovacs and Jack Parr, and bunch of hosts until Johnny Carson aired in October 1962
I’ve decided to change this up a little bit instead of just listing the movies I’ve watched. While I’ve seen some of these in the theater, too much time has passed to do single reviews. Therefore, I’m adding them into this blog and including whether to WATCH IT or SKIP IT. I’m not responsible for
This is my test flash fiction story for a book idea that is in the vein of David Sedaris. Since I’m not obviously writing consistently to get done with my other novel idea (due to personal shit going on to be honest), I decided to write try something else. For some reason I’m having a
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d, Of
A is not for APPLE,the one I should’ve poisoned,but didn’t and when you took the first bite and another.I cursed myself that you did notfeel your body burning inside outlike mine did.B is not for BLOOD,the liquid that should run downyour legs and arms for unknown reasons until there is a hugepuddle on the floor.C
Stab the life out of me like a sewer does to a pin cushion. Even if you pull out all the pins under a minute the holes are too big to fill in heaven. These deadly weapons intent to destroy has no reason. The answer eludes all honesty and lies acceptance is not wanted. Hands
One step ahead of the other in sand, dirt, snow, and grass. Hands holding when eyes could not wide open. A common name whispered when hope was lost. Moving forward with chains rattling behind us. The destination was not ours. One prayer away of the worst. Another step of hoping for the best.
pushing out the positiveplucking the featherspacking them upall of themmany cruel colorsexcitement in the airlaughter going one wayhurry quickly nowpeering out the doorwaycrushing down the publicitydon’t feel safecan’t find responsibilitynothing makes sensedark force lurkinglast word heardthe crowd cheers
They refer to me as a former smoker,the one who has a loving and hating relationship,not so much with cigarettes but with the smoke.Knowing the nicotine blackens lungs,fills your veins with ongoing smoke,and will one day take hours from your life,is not enough for a real smoker.They don’t care about the future, only until they

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