mikilowe
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My stories
The winter portrait
I look at pictures. Flesh made of grains, and skin made of halides purple yellow grey cerulean blue halides specks by the million particles sketching out soft edges of
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- 356 reads
the night walk to the slaughterhouse
I walked down elegant avenues late at night, with heart beats beating in the sole of my feet as I crushed the heart a little more, each step further each time the rubber hit the tarmac
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- 547 reads
My name is Jimmy
My name is Abigail I eat eggs for breakfast I wear a dar red, on both my lips and a thick black line on my eyelid I know the meaning of hurt, and grief thus my eyes are lined
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- 337 reads
fruit flies
fruit, rotting on the low table, fruit flies swarming around the necks of empty bottles, clothes, hanging on a bent curtain rail,
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- 305 reads
your throat overflows
Your throat overflows With a liquid scream But your throat is glutted You swallow your scream Your teeth are clenched The Highness applauds. He sits back- joins his hands
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- 386 reads