So, unfortunately, a friend of mine that I previously mentioned before (in my " Foolish Jest) comes back for a while and then decided to say good bye for good LOL (because of some personal reasons ofc). This is second (possibly the last one) dedicated for her.
A 44 year old male virgin signs up with a dating service. Read about his feelings as his experience unfolds. He is in an awkward state because he finds him in the position of needing to hide much of his past in spite of a clean criminal record due to…
Patrick, has a bit of a problem interacting with others. In unfamiliar situations he struggles to keep up but falls very short. In his attempts to be gracious he spends most of his time picking himself off the floor, dusting himself off, and hitting the floor again. A true fighter,…
Asking a serious question, and portraying a fatal flaw of humanity. We are amazed at things going on outside of our own planet when we can not feed our own people or maintain order right here. Moral of the story: Just because you can see Heaven, does not mean you…
A man sits alone at a diner patio, reading the news when he's approached by a stranger. He questions the man's intentions while he remains there in silence.
This was written under the topic of "blindness" and its symbolic usage in literature.
Self image is a fragile thing. If it's too inflated, you have a huge ego often times. If it's minuscule, you have a negative perception of yourself. This is a story of a man who has lived his life as a lie.
All criticism welcome - in fact, much appreciated. This is basically 'to my parents' (as you might have guessed from the title), and mainly focuses on when I was a goth - ex-goth now, but I still belong to the dark side ;)
The darker side of me sometimes decides to write as well and sometimes I decide to allow it. This is one of those times... When I finished, I loved it. You got to love how my summary's tell you nothing. **Tee Hee*
If that wasn't bad enough, he'd headed back home, only to find his best friend Walter, that no good son of a bitch, running around the living room playing a game of naked pin the tail on the donkey with his wife, Sissy.
This is a poem. This happened to me when I was picking up driftwood on the Snake River in Eastern Washington. At the time I was mad but a few years latter I was able to see the comedy in what had happen to me.