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A BOY AND GIRL IN 1950S LONDON
Poetry | Updated Mar 18, 2014 | Reads: 2 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
"You know for years I've wondered why I'm still here, why I come back, why I fucking adore you and you can't utter three bloody words" he spat, venom in his words.
"Well," she stopped and puffed out the white smoulder from her blood-red lips, "No one asked you too"
She had her soft red Marlboro,...
Short Story | Updated Mar 16, 2014 | Reads: 23 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
By Bill Schultz
The title says it all, no?
I was mostly going for style and imagery here, not grammatical correctness so lovely people please don't preoccupy yourself with that. This is only the first run through. I do not plan to revise this. It is what is - an exercise. I know this is not...
taken from my book,
Rob and Jamie's marriage runs into financial problems after Rob loses his job, Brennan inadvertently enables Coin's attention-craving behavior and Kimberly has trouble deciding who to hire for a new sales position at Altmire Racquetball
George is a hardened career criminal who has landed in the interrogation room. He is cool and confident until the detective tries an unusual questioning method.
By Norman Crane
Young love, first kisses and the infernal influence of old movies. Or: the dangers of smoking.
My Nightly Routine.
Poetry | Updated Jul 16, 2013 | Reads: 6 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
By Towers Of Academe
I based this on an amusing painting I found by Van Gogh. in French on smoking.
By Erin Nicole Cochran
Poem I wrote from a smoker's point of view, which I am.
Poetry | Updated May 27, 2013 | Reads: 12 | Comments: 2 | Likes: 8
By Anna Desario
Smoking a cigarette at night.
Expansive stretch of highway
From here to the Ether
Carbon Vapor anesthetizes
A Languid spirit,
Where reminiscing is a wish
Extinguished as my candle blows out-
Wax drips then solidifies in a
... Gaping meteor retreat of an ashtray
Poetry | Updated Mar 24, 2013 | Reads: 12 | Comments: 1 | Likes: 0
taken from my book, "And Now It's Time For A Lift Off!"
Sitting in a bar she had thought back to the last time she had truly seen light, nostalgia strikes, and longing from the past resurfaces inside her heart.
You are about as necessary as my cigarette. But sometimes I need it so bad.
Poetry | Updated Dec 10, 2012 | Reads: 77 | Comments: 1 | Likes: 1