A Hairy End

#story

story

A Hairy End is a short story about friendship, cancer and hairy pussies intended to inspire the soul, uplift the spirit and enlighten the way:

 

The two women exploded into an embrace only two hearts that have been broken open could ever set off.

And when eye met eye…

– How are ya, tramp?

– Oh, grand. I’m dying.

– Fuck off, you’re dying… you’re a gas whore, you are.

– I fucking am, for real this time. No “me heart’s shattered, I feel like I’m dying” man crap.

Terror slips down the friend’s throat.

– Coffee?

– Whiskey.

– I love you.

The women enter the Poosie Nansie’s Inn and sit to two Scotchs, neat.

– It’s cunt cancer. Literally, like, no joke – shrieks she.

– Jaysus! Fuck my arse! Seriously Emz? – tears tsunami the woman.

– Ah sure, it’s grand. Didn’t your one Louise Hay have it? Might get her book, see what the story is.

– The story is that life is killing us, Emz.

– Yes, it is, babes. Cheers – toasts Emz.

– Sláinte.

– I’ve never managed to be happy on this god cunting planet anyways. Maybe on another one I will do better.

-Are you dying, like, for sure for sure?

– That’s what they say.

– Who’s they, the custard launcher cunt experts? Fuck them!

– I don’t think I’ll be fucking them, or anyone, or anything, for like, a while… depending on how long death lasts. What an absolute waste of wax cash…

– Jesus Christ, I know, pussy waxing’s gone exorbitant!

– Shockingly so. Daylight robbery, if you ask me. Sixty quid for a Brazilian?! Fuck that, I’m dying feral. Free the pussy!

– Amen to that!

– To death and bushy puss, slut.

– To death and bushy puss, whore. God, I love you so much…

 

~ G. A.
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Pardon

#poems

poems

We hurt each other not because we are flawed, but because we are hurting. Pardon is a poem intended to help you forgive yourself, and them:

 

Stitch you up,

you tried,

twenty cents at a time,

light you up,

I cried,

wished you only mine.

*

Heal you up,

you tried,

man dime gone awry,

grind yer bones to dust,

I fancied,

you jimmied my heart.

*

Now all crimes forgiven,

karmic debt made up,

love rhymes with life,

two magpies fly,

names You and I,

bells of change chime.

 

~ G. A.
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Bed sheets

#freeversepoetry

free verse poetry

Free verse poetry Bed sheets is intended to inspire the soul, uplift the spirit and ignite the heart:

 

Bed sheets,

pregnant with our scent,

kissed with memories

of first-time nerves.

*

Bed sheets,

still wet with happiness,

Sundays lost in coffee,

crumbs and soulful sex.

*

Bed sheets,

still alive with pleasure,

naked sailed oceans,

drowned embraced.

 

~ G. A.

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