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by holloweyed 2900 words, on Sep 11 1:34 AM 2006. In Other
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by holloweyed 900 words, on Aug 29 1:08 AM 2006. In Other
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by holloweyed 500 words, 3 comments, on May 12 7:52 AM 2006. In Other
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There is a pit in your heart. Small, like an almond, but dense, like iridium. It floats in the center of the fleshy fruit, pulsing as the tree shivers and wavers in the coldby holloweyed 500 words, 3 comments, on Apr 10 9:09 AM 2006
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I often dream of a girl I knew in my childhood. She was a strange and mysterious girl who seemed to have neither name nor origin--a severed head floating in dense fog. The fi
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It is one o’clock in the afternoon. I am trying to convert an old woman to AT&T over a ham and cheese sandwich. I hear the background music of Bob’s lesbian por
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Mr. Watanabe liked to collect perishable goods. He has collected them for as long as I could remember. I saw him every week in the grocery stores when I was little,
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He figures that it'll be alright as he sits on the shingled roof of the toolshed, which is perched precariously on the roof of the school building. The day is dreary and wet an
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You think no one notices when you look at him beneath your half lidded eyes, or when you look as you straighten your uniform, unconsciously pulling at your sleeves like you do
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There are lots of things I don't know about that hang over my head like empty fortune cookies sitting over the remains of my Americanized lo mein noodles. You're on the o
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he is gaining on them, and itachi knows it. he knows that this is their last stand--their last sprint down the stretch of tragedy littered with blood and lust that they h
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they are moving now. the sun rises sullenly over the horizon, showering the ashen world with piercing arrows of light. it makes the world lighten, yes, but only by
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You're driving down the freeway with me, all limbs and organs and skin and bones, some missing and some not, stuffed in the space between your parking brake and old-fashioned w
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The first time Othello fucks Mitsume, its on his four poster bed spread with satin and silk and wrapped with roses and devil's thorns.
And it was a clumsy affair, with glari -
I swear that I saw you at the funeral that day, all veils and umbrellas and ghostflowers.
Just as I swear you were standing behind me the night before as I brushed my teeth -
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You used to be.
That. -
I used to have a love affair with your answering machine.
It wasn't because I didn't like you, or because he was prettier. It was just because. -
X.
We decided unanimously that sex smelled bad. -
The problem with kindergarden these days is that everyone is taught to be special, to find that within themselves that is special, to never rest until they can grasp something
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The eighth night I saw you, I realized what love was.
Because there was no eighth night. -
I’m not good at this.
I say as I follow you, half a street away, through the heavy canopy of urban umbrellas. I say as I stare, eyes avoidant beneath spiked lashes, at your -
by holloweyed 200 words, 2 comments, on Sep 25 8:05 PM 2005. In <200 lines, Inspirational, Young adult
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The hair dryer was too close to the edge.
He decided as he felt fingers, thin and sticky like spider webs crawl up his skin, nail-first and then soft, apologetic pads. They -
We were going to be gods.
We thought as we laid under the scorching heat of summer, wheezing in exhaustion as we reveled in the blur of green and sunshine that was our visioby holloweyed 600 words, 3 comments, on Sep 21 10:44 PM 2005. In <200 lines, Depression, Fan fiction -
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It had been a rum and whiskey sort of day. -
It's a funny phrase--we broke up.
It's funny, because it implies that someone, somewhere just broke. And that's silly, because people don't just break. Jars break. Cars brea -
You were going for Christmas.
Family gatherings, promotions, some shit like that. -
Let's pretend.
Let's pretend that we are small and tiny and insecure. And let's pretend that we are young and filthy and eight. And let's pretend that our eyes aby holloweyed 500 words, 1 comment, on Sep 13 5:33 PM 2005. In <200 lines, Depression, Fiction, Horror -
by holloweyed 400 words, 1 comment, on Sep 13 10:58 AM 2005. In <200 lines, Depression, Romance, Young adult
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There were flowers in the attic.
Like large, white ghosts that hovered mournfully over shrouded memories, almost wilting, but in many ways, still very much vibrant in their -
He was pretty.
And I told him so.
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