

We Are Not GodI am the instigator. I am the arbiter. I am the unctuous salesman weaving his way through a dirty lot, offering a shake of the hand and widening lips to close the deal. My thick-soled boots crunch the leaves in this tired town - too many to count. There's nothing special here. Every conceivable notion has a dozen twins, and none are given any thought by eternity.We Are Not God
God, through his perfection, is necessarily impartial to everything and everybody. We are flawed and he cannot help us. From the instant he created the universe he bound himself to voyeurism. Six rounds fired into the dark, pausing to listen to the sound of his ringing e


My Blood is Made of SweatIn this room where my fathers spilt their blood for me, I awake, cold and immortal. Though I heave against my bonds with a furious, cursing passion, my soul is restricted. Tied down and destroyed by the lubency with which my mother would kill me, standing heavy on my chest, mouthing words and breathing secrets to dull figures in drab colors. The sheer canitude of my flesh frightens me.My Blood is Made of Sweat
Where can I run? I feel the need to jump and fly and shout and howl, feel the rough sting of bark on my feet with the stubborn intent of spitting in the face of this dark god. There's something great about feeling your feet fly over a thin branch,


?I am dark, I am pure. This is my mantra.?
Man is beautiful. Man is fragile and brave and proud. He builds with futile cries of hope and frustration. He is a god. He weeps with the knowledge that this is all there is, sobbing and running fearlessly into the sun.
My head aches, oh how it aches. I am pregnant with your sorrows. My belly is full of thunder and it threatens me with cries of bursting. Every day I fill my lungs with poison in direct violation of your hopes and dreams. In this desert I will give birth and wither like so many cursed and thirsty fig trees. My savior, my god... ayúdame. tengo sed. por favor


Once I Knew a GirlOnce I knew a girl named Eve. She was short and skinny and wore glasses, and everywhere she went she was all elbows. She mispronounced her R's and climbed trees barefoot and saw fairies where others only saw fireflies. Eve loved to read. Stories clung to her like velvet. Her bedroom was an Eden cast in mint green and populated by books new books, old books, books with all the secrets of the world hidden inside them. She brought her love to school with her: sometimes, the teacher would send her out into the hallway for reading during class. Haha, wouldn't want us to actually learn anything in school, we used to joke. TOnce I Knew a Girl
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