

Margot in PiecesI’m meant to be a writer, say I, but my mother doesn’t understand. She stands over me and my tiny room, towering like a giant. She is the birth beast, the originator, she gave birth to me, and yes, she could kill me too, no jury would convict her. But then with imagery like that, perhaps I’m not quite the writer I claim to be. Writing won’t pay your bills, Margot. Writing won’t get you married. Writing won’t feed your family. She says this in a warning tone, the type mothers always use when they want to appear benevolently concerned, or at least hiMargot in Pieces


"Found" Poem"Pilgrims" and "Natives" (The new Arcadia) A nut harvest And the Biggest Elvis So how do you track a bobcat? Stay free, Writers of the information age. Ancient hobbit race discovered! Elves and Faeries: A Slaughtered Race? Ghost hunters And the Devil’s rejects Angels (and Demons!) Space (and Time…) North and South."Found" Poem
All the Indians Must have Tragic features (tragic) Noses, Eyes, and Arms Their Hands and Fingers (must be tragic) &nbs
i love your writing by the way...
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i got more records than the kgb.
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if i were god, i'd spend my days designing elaborate coincidences - me
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"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
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if i were god, i'd spend my days designing elaborate coincidences - me
i really enjoyed your gallery (and the artwork in your scraps).
thanks for the watch.
i'll be back for sure.
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You were right about the stars: each one is a setting sun.
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if i were god, i'd spend my days designing elaborate coincidences - me
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if i were god, i'd spend my days designing elaborate coincidences - me
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And God said: Stop using my name in vain goddammit!
Is this real? Am I...am I alive? How can I be sure that this is real...I'm not sure that I'm alive?
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