low down, selfish piece of @!$%#. self serving self medicating complacent malcontent. i can't stand to look you in the eye. driven by lust decadence and mistrust you want it just to have it and would take it by any means you would take it by any means necessary.
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Take a look, now that you are a sophisticated adult, at PBS.
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hold me with your voice with a song that enslaves again and again with your voice kill me with your eyes with looks that could kiss. again and again with your eyes bury me in your arms with a cold embrace forever and ever in your arms.
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if you would ask me, say you'd always care, all is forgotten. is it fair? overcome without feeling strangled by despair, hold for a moment. could i care? wait for an answer floating in the air. sold for a heartbeat you're not there.
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The only thing that Damien Hirst suffers from is a case of the Emperor's Clothes.
when she begins to break and her eyes fill to capacity and a tear breaks that threshold for others to follow after, i can't help but find her irresistible. she doesn't turn away but fixes her gaze upon me in full vulnerability. heat radiates off of her as if her naked soul was r …
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a torn, faded photograph. the patina on a copper spoon. and a rusted stain on a porcelain plate. a cracked, hazy broken window. the blackened bark on a bare dead tree. and the peeling, blistered painted park bench.
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i would tell you the truth if i thought that you could handle the weight of everything i need to say to you. maybe i should maybe you'd break maybe you'd cry in my arms for all the words i knew you couldn't take.
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True love means never having to say you're sorry. Divorce means you have to find another place to live. I was just gonna live at the store i managed as i spent about 55 hours a week there anyway. Probably due to the fact that home sucked. But I digress.
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to drown the noise that drone that rings in my ears like tinnitus or radio static to dull the thoughts of why or how everyone i have ever loved has forgiven me. to numb the pain the pain of living and of life that's lasted much too long. to blur the sight
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the room is hushed and only the memory of her breath lingers on my face and neck. like the end of a new years party, when the last guest is walked to the door, i am relieved and immediately alone. but the silence is deafening.
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i am vulgar. and i don't know why. automatic censorings of my words don't anger me. i've been deleted, bleeped out overdubbed had accounts as well as posts deleted. it makes me feel vulgar. i'm not gratuitous about it.
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od d spacing and FOnT shifts are hallmarks ________________— of creative writing___________— majors and are also pretentious
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"i hate you i @!$%#ing hate you. the way you think one thing and do another. the way that you hesitate and then make the cowards choice. i @!$%#ing hate you. everything that you have given up on, has come back to laugh in your face. you deserve all that you've lost. you're out o …
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this is my best description while its fresh in my mind... its starts of like a growing, swirling white noise in the back of my skull... then images and sounds are as if they are all coming at me at once and its hard to concentrate.
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Its strange when i look in the mirror. I never see the same face. Some days i see an idealized version of myself sort of how i would look in a dream that i am having or how my ghost would look.
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I tried to seed the article but the link only has the first part of the interview and the READ MORE link goes nowhere... but i found this a while back and i saved it because i found it interesting.
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Its admirable and impressive that a student wrote this for a school paper.
Oh man, I need this recipe.
I got to the club last night dry as a bone. I was in a sour mood and had no desire to be there. As a matter of fact, i had not had a drink for 6 days. Not to prove a point and not to get clean. I have no cash.
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Portraits traditionally are an idealized version of the subject. If a person sits for a portrait, they expect the artist or photographer to make them look their best. In the portraits that I create, my aim is to take a more expressive and liberal approach.
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I got into a discussion with a colleague about what i do in my spare time and since i happen to be an art teacher, everyone that i work with assumes that i am also an artist. They happen to be correct. I am an artist. I consider myself a painter.
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I often deconstruct subjects such as these.
i knew a girl seventeen she was the toughest looking mother@!$%#er that i've ever seen. she was a girl she loved to fight but in a dress i would confess she'd take the heart of any guy. i knew a girl a beauty queen
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Esprit de Corpse: Group Announcement and Community Art/Writing Project
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Wisdom and PBS
Wisdom and PBS
Wisdom and PBS
Just Clean the Fridge.