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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | Reasoning | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Para suicide | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | The mathematics of creasing | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | She’d been sitting | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Saucer | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Scrubbles | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | The worst witch | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Teller | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Stop putting walls on my face | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | More pitta please | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | The traffic went North and South | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | The horse in question | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | The graphic designer on holiday | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | String | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Must we share another error | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | On all fours, in Turkey | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | The devils | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Porn moon | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | On a day like today | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Note | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Spandex | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Skin flint | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Summer sea | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Sentence stress | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
| Story | Statement | span | 0 | 11 years 8 months ago |
My stories
Your heart will harden
Looking at fields, makes me feel roast full, I think, thighs pressed against ice porcelain in the toilets of a pub in Victoria.
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- 8 comments
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- 1921 reads
You don't remember being born
I can’t remember being born, and no one else can remember it either. Not even your mother. Or your mother’s mother. In fact, your father and your mother, are busy wrapping you in blankets,
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- 1 comment
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- 614 reads
Quite
I will write you no poems to tell you how alarming familiarity is. No ways to tell about knee plate earthquakes, how your ego grew tannin roses. All mirrors are motorways
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- 2 comments
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- 1146 reads
Some
Some oh fuck moments are stone silent they don't crack the sound barrier before they meet the sea,
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- 3 comments
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- 1216 reads
You are, we are, I am
A pilots pocket catches on the autopilot switch, A surgeon dips for incision and slips. A mountain guide clocks the map upside-down and here is no water, only rock.
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- 3 comments
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- 1112 reads