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Life Choicesexpand_moreHer blood had been stagnant for close to the total of her years.
What felt like sanctity now felt like nothingness, like death.
He folds on himself like a sheet kicked off the foot of a bed.
He smelled like the bars my mother took me to in the middle of the day.
There’s this cool magazine online. They let people read it for free.
They don’t dance but simply monitor our movements, like bodyguards.
“Why don’t you say anything, people? These thugs are murdering me!”
It wasn’t the bees I thought to tell but wasps the evening you died.
You can call it karma if you can see that far, or joy-begets-sorrow.
The transformation of their maid from shadow to sexpot thrills Maizie.
As soon as her grandparents left, BLAM, the dance in her died.
My first suicidal ideations occurred to me when I was ten, eleven, twelve.
She had boyfriends before she met him. Well, not really boyfriends.
Better to be a bird without altitude. Or to get out of the game early.
I was once a rider of mastodons, a waitress showing skin.
Our crowns are made of dead hair and get swept out with the trash.
She does not know within a decade she will unload a slug into her mouth.
All down my street the new fathers beat the kingness out of the kings.
Keaton didn’t control his emotions; he put them to use.
Everyone knew cigarettes were the gateway to harder stuff, like Zima.
Lust for power and money undermined their morality and common sense.
The appetite for self-surrender is nothing new in our makeup.
My head was muffled in velvet, my body exposed in an old slip.
Pale dust clung to their skin like the lime he had thrown on the dead.
No one asked that, changed as he was, he do more than survive.
Ivan rolled his eyes, and looked at the sky like someone about to be martyred.
The suite cost as much as a two-pound brick of Panama Red.
For a moment I had the delicious feeling of fitting in without even trying.
Our culture cherishes a fantasy of a certain writerly existence.
