There was this woman whoI used to know.She wore cardigans andglasses, and she hada smile that wouldchill a penguin.She loved to build things.One gray winter night,she built a house ofdelusions.There were no mirrors,and everything wasplastic.The couch,the bedthe sex,the laughter,the...

We talk about thepast like it's amovie wewatched together.You liked thecinematography.I didn't care for thecruelty of theprotagonist.We disagree on thetheme, and everyscene holds differentaspects ofsymbolism for us.I'm not sure I wantthere to be a sequel,despite the goodacting.

You were worried aboutthe storm, so youinvited it in,wanting to control thedamage through yourkindness and friendship.But you can't.The storm doesn't havea conscience.It will never be a cutepet on your leash.

When my oldest brother, Todd,came back for my mom's funeral,he had this light about him.His face was a poem.Sure, he was the oldest, and hehad a healthy-looking tan from thehot New Mexico sun, workingoutside with turquoise, silver,and bear claws...

Empty and debauched,that hollow spaceinside of me,the cavernousvoid that I triedto stuff withbooze, drugs,whores galoreturned out to bethe exact shape ofthe Creator.I smelled the stalebreath of death comingfor me on thenightmare wind.Life tasted like rottenmeat.Maggots ate away atmy soul,...