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Overly personal ramblings and short stories on things consuming me.
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Soft pink blooms rise from tender green stalks as J tells me he’s been thinking of killing himself again.
Fiction
Tattoos, songs, and pokopia
Consumption
+1
The bright red drooping buds of flowers speckle the brush on the side of the road, blooming tight against a fence, knocked down by March’s heavy winds and rains.
Pink, magenta blooming in the early spring; your mother asks me how I’ve been and I tell her about my new promotion as we wait for your arrival.
We were barely together, though I guess I was meeting his parents. We got together every couple of months out of pure obsession, spent all our time around each other, got mad, broke it off, and continued the cycle again.
Men
I am revising a story about two men traveling to the coast in search of a magical cure to the disease killing one of them. In this story the forest is alive: a tangled character that is supposed to represent the dark and gnarly parts of their present situation but also the lush and blooming parts of their past.
Personal