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Murphy Square 2016, Page 067
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ALLEY CAT Ryan Nichols Angus cut a lean silhouette as he slunk down the alley in the pre-morning twilight. He deftly avoid- ed puddles from the previous night’s rain with a liquid grace all his own. The pads on his paws had reacquainted themselves with the cold concrete of city streets and...
Show moreALLEY CAT Ryan Nichols Angus cut a lean silhouette as he slunk down the alley in the pre-morning twilight. He deftly avoid- ed puddles from the previous night’s rain with a liquid grace all his own. The pads on his paws had reacquainted themselves with the cold concrete of city streets and sidewalks over the recent months he had spent living on his own. As he turned a corner, he noticed a fat, brown Tabby stating down at him from a second story window in a small apartment complex. Angus recognized a tinge of jealousy in the Tabby‘s gaze; this was a house cat longing for the freedom and adventure that its 800 square foot, fully carpeted palace could never afford him. Angus also recognized a growingjealousy in himself. He stretched his claws down the bark of a nearby tree, letting them sink in as deeply as he wanted. He did this in full view of the Tabby in order to push away the suddenly active memories of his former life indoors by mocking the other cat‘s captivity. 'l‘hese days he slept in a makeshift structure he’d found on his first night back on the streets. It kept him from getting wet during rainy nights, but the alley itself had soaked into his fur from an early age and this new refuge didn’t offer much comfort. Even though he had spent recent year indoors, his earliest memories were of hunger and the parasites that plagued him as he clawed open trash bags and dead squirrels. The streets and alleys were his only lineage.There was a grime that came with such a rough life, a deep greasy dirt that would work its way into even the blackest spots on his fur. The grime had made his hairs stick together, replacing their softness with spikes of black and dull white. He didn’t groom himself back then. Better to save his energy for hunting and scrounging, or running. It had been like that for his first three years. But it had all changed when he found Allison. It was a hungry winter morning in the middle of the week and Angus had been forced by a scar- city of edible trash to expand his normal hunting 65
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 125
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I REMEMBER THE TIME Lindsey LaCasse You bumed me In the back With your American Spirit. We took long drags And laughed into the quiet hum Of downtown St. Paul in the twilight houm Our legs were Swaying gently in the cool summer breeze As they hung from the twelfth story Pool balcony that night....
Show moreI REMEMBER THE TIME Lindsey LaCasse You bumed me In the back With your American Spirit. We took long drags And laughed into the quiet hum Of downtown St. Paul in the twilight houm Our legs were Swaying gently in the cool summer breeze As they hung from the twelfth story Pool balcony that night. My arms nested arms: that Dingy metal rail, My left thigh pmgcd to yours. Our naked bodies glowed pale blue In the starlight. Drinks and bathing suits lay poolside, Long forgotten. The city lights bumd. I Hear them as you leaned in to kixs me, Resting your hand on my back. 123
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 099
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THE GOOD'OL'DAYS IN WAR Brendan Brophy The hardestjob is often juggling wolves Even when it’s as enchanting as one suitcase who doesn’t like going home for the holidays Keeping status-quo intentions by camping out on the fire escape & ordering take out through side windows Except scotch flavored...
Show moreTHE GOOD'OL'DAYS IN WAR Brendan Brophy The hardestjob is often juggling wolves Even when it’s as enchanting as one suitcase who doesn’t like going home for the holidays Keeping status-quo intentions by camping out on the fire escape & ordering take out through side windows Except scotch flavored stains smell like broken down batteries choking on indigo bruises So forgive me For selling flashlights in order to keep watering arpeggios with incendiary limbs 97
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 149
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six...I guess I don't really know you well enough to know." “Limbo for unbaptized pagans, the waste- land of lust, or the hellfire for heretics. I see you're studied up on Dante, but no, I belong here. This is just a coincidence,” he pointed at his tattoo. I could now make out a tall wooden cross...
Show moresix...I guess I don't really know you well enough to know." “Limbo for unbaptized pagans, the waste- land of lust, or the hellfire for heretics. I see you're studied up on Dante, but no, I belong here. This is just a coincidence,” he pointed at his tattoo. I could now make out a tall wooden cross wrapped in a gay pride flag. I guess circle one was out of the question. “I was robbing a bank when I died. My third." he said. He turned his body to me and I saw the hole. What had once been a bullet wound was nowjust a bloodless tear. His skin fiapped around it like bed sheets in the draft ofthe cavern. “Ouch.” “Only for a second. Like getting a flu shot. In your entire body,” he laughed. “Your turn.” “It was like a dream," I said. I'd felt like I was floating higher and higher into the air and then it hit me like the headlight ofa train. The air became still and I was blinded by the white light. As I blinked it began to soften. thu! a prculiar drmm. In my twenty-five years as a therapist I thought I'd heard it all: nakedness, falling, inability to find the gas pedal on a car, eating ev- erything in sight, perpetual searching for a bath- room, and even impossibly long chases. This did not seem like any oftheir dreams. I tried to think about my stressors that could trigger such a fantasy, but could find none. I’lenty oftimes I had found myselfin lucid situations and this may simply have been the result of one too many glasses of scotch last night. Ahead of me in the clearing stood the home I'd lived in many years earlier with my ex-wife and children. My starter home. After the divorce we‘d sold the house to a bunch of frat boys who all but burned the structure to the ground. Still moving through the aura ofpure white light I could smell nothing but fresh cedar from the trees that outlined the yard as I approached the house. I ’1': an?! had a drcam what I could rmcll. I tentatively pushed open the door to reveal a dark house lined with large furniture and knick knacks, family portraits7 and pictures on every available surface. Stufl‘y. Beyond the trappings of a family home. I saw no sign of my ex-wife or chil- dren and decided to sit on the couch for a while. I always loved this couch. My wife had hated it when I put my feet on the coffee table. [mtg/11a: well cry'o} my dream. It’s (It: only vacation I (in gel. My daughter Molly hadn’t spoken to me since she turned l8 due to “irreconcilable differences." lfjou could call no! [nyingfltr col/cg! irreconcilable. She‘d attended Harvard Law School and was working on high profile cases — the kind that make the local news from time to time. This was a fact I loved to brag about to clients and strangers. Joseph, my son, had gone to a public university and become a specialized lacrosse goalie coach. From his Christmas letter, I learned thatJoseph was going to start working for a national team in the spring. Before I had the chance to fall completely asleep on the couch, I heard a man‘s voice:“Your mother would kill you ifshe saw feet on the table!“ “Dad?” “You got that right," the voice boomed. It appeared to be coming from upstairs. “\Vell if Mom’s here, tell her to come say hel- lo.” Dreams are better when you play along. My nightmares were not as frequent as those of my patients. I had experienced no real trauma and never had any recurring anything, but on occasion I found myselfdreaming about my parents. espe- 147
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 006
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FACES (1). Katherine Gripne . . . 42 FACES (2). Katherine Gripne . . . 43 FAT, Marisa Mosqueda . . . 44 WHO KNOWS, Marisa Mosqueda . . . 45 SILENT EMBER, Jazmin Critrenden . . . 46 ll SONTAG SKETCHES, Mary Cornelius . . . 49 THE CONTEST, Mary Cornelius . . . 50 BOY AND GULL. D.E. Green . . . 52...
Show moreFACES (1). Katherine Gripne . . . 42 FACES (2). Katherine Gripne . . . 43 FAT, Marisa Mosqueda . . . 44 WHO KNOWS, Marisa Mosqueda . . . 45 SILENT EMBER, Jazmin Critrenden . . . 46 ll SONTAG SKETCHES, Mary Cornelius . . . 49 THE CONTEST, Mary Cornelius . . . 50 BOY AND GULL. D.E. Green . . . 52 BE READY FOR IT. Deb Goggins . . . 54 FLYING NEMO, Michael Torreson . . . 55 PORCELAIN GODDESS, Aaron Boger . . . 59 FOOT IN MOUTH. Marisa Mosqueda . . . 60 SMOOTH MARBLE. Stephanie Frey. . . 61 THE WALL OF IMMUTABLE PLEASURES, Erik Moore . . . 62 ALLEY CAT. Ryan Nichols . . . 65 SHINY OBJECTS, Brendan Brophy . . I 70 4TH OF JULY, OAKLAND. CA., Audrey Campbell . . . 72 AMERICA'S CHOICE. Erik Moore . . . 73 FREEDOM. Aaron Boger. . . 76 THE WINGMAKER. Eve Taft . . . 79 RHYTHMICALLY FADES. Rachel Franrz . . . 8O LOVE, Danny Polaschek . . . 8] ROLLER SKATING WITH REMY, Mary Cornelius . . . 82 THIS WAY, Deb Goggins . . . 86 GAMES ON RIVERSIDE AND 7TH, Malena Larsen . . . 87 ADVICE FOR THE REBELLIOUS, Bryce Kadrlik . . . 88
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 033
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A PANTOUM FOR MY DECEASED LOVE Brendan Brophy Did the ever stay out to gaze at us When we chased yellow fireflim through the night Do you think we made themjcalous Cosmic voyeurism of the grass between our toes When we chased yellow fireflies through the night Upon the field, past the dirt road Cosmic...
Show moreA PANTOUM FOR MY DECEASED LOVE Brendan Brophy Did the ever stay out to gaze at us When we chased yellow fireflim through the night Do you think we made themjcalous Cosmic voyeurism of the grass between our toes When we chased yellow fireflies through the night Upon the field, past the dirt road Cosmic voyeurism of the gram between our toes Across the docks, the lake mirroring the sky Upon the field, past the dirt road The Wind's breath leaving our bodies weightless Across the (locks, the lake mirroring the lf 1 was dn-zuning, thank )ou for not waking me The Wind‘s breath leaving our bodies weightlms My hand in yong and your hand in mine If I was dreaming, thank you for not waking me You breathed me in, as I breathed you out My hand in yours, and your hand in mine Do you think we made them jealous You breathed me in, as l breathed you out Did the stars ever stay out to gaze at us 31
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 078
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FREEDOM Aaron Boger John Hardwick woke up on his bedroll that day to heavy, drenching heat. JUSII/J Hardwitk awoke on his bedrall to find that a terrible drenehing heat had laid anon hir (amp, leaving his cotton underrlothex wet and clinging to his body. He xtood up and held out his arm; in an...
Show moreFREEDOM Aaron Boger John Hardwick woke up on his bedroll that day to heavy, drenching heat. JUSII/J Hardwitk awoke on his bedrall to find that a terrible drenehing heat had laid anon hir (amp, leaving his cotton underrlothex wet and clinging to his body. He xtood up and held out his arm; in an attempt to dry himxem but there war no breeze, and he soon gave it up a: a bad job. John sighed as he realized that he wasn’t going to be able dry himselfin this dead, still air. He sat back down on the bedroll and rubbed his eyes. His hair was lank and greasy, and running a hand through it only slightly improved the messed look ofthe brown curls he had inherited from his father. His mother’s blue eyes stared at the dead fire smok- ing next to him. diary! hours (yjessup’x thildhood had been xpent staring at fire; just like thir one, a; he camped out in the woodx behind his home in Northern Virginia. The fire would captivate him late into the night, or all else fell to darkner around him, and he would look to his side, 76 and there would be his brother, John, Jessup, smiling big, a few more grown-up teeth in his mouth thanJohn had himself, but the same father's hair and mother’s eyes. He was the only thing in the pitch-black that was still glowing bright with the life of the fire they sat beside. They would take out the pipes they had made in secret from hollowed out and hardened cobs ofcorn, and drilled out pieces ofwhittled wood. Th9 would pinth Iobaao from the little hag they had .rtolen from their father. They would lamp it, as best as they could, the way they had seen father do, as he looked out across the plantation in the twilight. Wu} would light them and pafl in until hing of rmo/re tame out. They would breathe the smoke in too far and choke and cough. And the rob: would heat up and ruin the tabarro, hum- : It
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 121
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OVERLOAD Monica DeRee tension -l-a-u-l- fmstrdtions GRO\V boiling point d rops mind iiiiimmmmmpppppllll- looooodddddeecechxs D-O-WNi starts (yrs glow lean rush wild BODY 119
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 042
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UNREAL Leslie Hutchinson derealization; “a feeling that one’s surroundings are not real” 9. now the world feels real, not on a fake split screen (it’s hard to understand if you don’t know it first hand) it starts in the morning an attack the night before lingers and i’m scared but i don’t notice...
Show moreUNREAL Leslie Hutchinson derealization; “a feeling that one’s surroundings are not real” 9. now the world feels real, not on a fake split screen (it’s hard to understand if you don’t know it first hand) it starts in the morning an attack the night before lingers and i’m scared but i don’t notice yet. i sit up and feel woozy not physically, just my brain; i brush it off 40 i try to get up it’s harder than usual she's next to me, but i can’t see who she is even squinting Closer i Can’t see i can‘t see 3. we kiss and it‘s distant this isn‘t a lack of affection it’s a change of inflection in how the world speaks to me with a voice down to a whisper it’s quiet this morning and i can barely hear it
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 013
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by a rock. “Lady, you need to ask your friend for forgive- ness," he said. “I’m sure she would forgive you.” I grabbed the damned pamphlet out of his hand and threw it against the wall. “She’s dead,” I told him. “And you want to know another secret?” Luke shook his head no. Mark shook his head,...
Show moreby a rock. “Lady, you need to ask your friend for forgive- ness," he said. “I’m sure she would forgive you.” I grabbed the damned pamphlet out of his hand and threw it against the wall. “She’s dead,” I told him. “And you want to know another secret?” Luke shook his head no. Mark shook his head, yes. I almost laughed. Since I had the air conditioner set at sixty-two degrees, the room was quite cool and comfortable, but my new friends looked like they had run a marathon. I couldn't stop my mouth. My throat felt scratchy and dry. I had to tell them. I had to puke the words out ofmy mouth, out ofmy heart. I was choking on the words. Strangled by the memories. I held the blazer in my hands and let my finger- nails graze the soft n'bs of the corduroy and looked at the two little man babies like I was facing God himself. “I wore it to her funeral," I said. And then, as if a llood had washed over my brain and into my mouth, I spewed out another tidbit of information I had never shared with anyone. Not one soul. “I have twenty-one blazers. Twenty-one beautiful pieces of art that l rescued from neglectful people. People who take for granted what it means to own some- thing so magnificent and unique. Each one has a story. That's what I was doing when the two of you interrupted my day. Cataloging the stories of my art. Telling the stories of how they came to me. How I rescued them." I wanted to cry. I put my hand in my pocket hoping to find a tissue in ease I started bawling. But the only thing in my pocket was a brown leather but- ton that had fallen offof the blazer. \Vithout a word, my captive audience walked to the door. I didn’t thank them. I didn’t say anything. As I held the button in my hand, I thought ofthe gold angel pin I found in the blazer’s pocket. V irginia’s angel pin. The last thing she put in the pocket. And I swear that as I watched them walk out the door I heard a voice whisper in my ear, “You’re forgiven.” You know, it’s a mystery to me why people have to sellJesus. Don’t we have enough to worry about in life without fussing over social morals from thou- sands of years ago? But theJesus people want you to hear it. They proclaim the Gospel through camera lenses and T.V. screens. You don’t have to leave your couch. They’re everywhere. Like Mark and Luke, knocking on my door to discussJesus and talk about forgiveness. You can’t get away from it. From them. TheJesus people. 11
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 023
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van and were soon on their silent journey home. “Man, that was some heavy shit.” The others could only respond to Rex’s sum- mary oftheir trauma with dazed nods and muffled groans of agreement. “What the fuck are we gonna do, guys?" he continued. “This band is who we are; we can’tjust give up.” ...
Show morevan and were soon on their silent journey home. “Man, that was some heavy shit.” The others could only respond to Rex’s sum- mary oftheir trauma with dazed nods and muffled groans of agreement. “What the fuck are we gonna do, guys?" he continued. “This band is who we are; we can’tjust give up.” “Maybe we could play, I don’t know, like something else? \Vhat kinda music does God like?" Dave asked. Garry sat forward in his recliner. “That fucking hippy shit, man. Remember those dudes with sandals at that one show in Iowa? They were playing God music.” “No way, man." “Fuck that.” “Ugh,” the oth- ers were visibly disgusted. They ruminated and took turns sipping their beers. Rex nervously scanned the room, its walls, the trash, the old television, as ifthere would be some divine answer scrawled into the dirt and neglect. He found his eyes lingering on the massive “Death‘s Bludgeon" banner that hung above the couch. He and Dave had made up the name in 4th grade. They were still every bit as proud of it now as they were then. Rex whispered is silently to himself, admiring both words individually. Death. Bludgeon. Suddenly, Rex was on his feet. “Dudes. I know what we have to do.“ The others looked up at him. They recognized the familiar grin he wore, the idea grin. “We don’t have to be scared ofthis fucker. We‘re Death’s Bludgeon. \Ve just have to kill him. \Vejust have to kill God." Dave and Garry let out murmurs of agree- ment; this was a good plan. Axel, still shaken up, offered a weak shrug and continued staring at the floor. The others stared at him. “You in, little brother?” Rex asked. Axel lifted his head, but avoided making eye contact until he found his voice. “Let's say I am. \Vhat then? Any ofyou know how to kill God? I mean, he’s got monsters and shit. You saw. They'll cut our heads off!” Garry and Dave nodded, that was a good point. They turned to Rex. He thought for a bit before answering. “Look dudes, we just need to find someone who knows about this God dude. That way, we can ask them how to kill him. ” “You mean like a priest or a rabbi?” Garry asked. “Yeah. Someone old and wise and shit.” There was another long pause as they tried to pool their limited mental resources. They muttered further qualifications as they went. “They’ve gotta be cool though, man. Not some prude.“ “Someone that’s traveled a bunch and shit. Seen the world, y’know?" “...with killer tattoos.” It went on like that for three more beers before they all gasped in unison at the realization that they had all been describing the same person. They looked at each other with wide eyes and big grins. “Jackal!” Jefferson “Jackal” Reed was a local legend in Rogersville and had been for as long as the boys had been alive. He was slender and worn out, with hollow cheeks and a longjaw. From the 605 to the late 80s he had seen all corners ofthe Earth while serving on the road crews for every metal band worth banging your head to. \'\’hen the four mem- bers of Death’s Bludgeon shook hands with him on 21
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 113
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BUTTERFLY Halle Bliss Chambers Delicate wings flutter gently, Fresh from the cocoon. Now that you are out of there, You‘ll be soaring soon. No more crawling where feet can crush you, Now you’ve got wings to fly. Once you can learn how to use them, You’ll be taking to the sky. You flap your wings up...
Show moreBUTTERFLY Halle Bliss Chambers Delicate wings flutter gently, Fresh from the cocoon. Now that you are out of there, You‘ll be soaring soon. No more crawling where feet can crush you, Now you’ve got wings to fly. Once you can learn how to use them, You’ll be taking to the sky. You flap your wings up and down, Slowly gaining height. Now you‘re swooping through the air, You’re now in full blmm flight. You're reaching for the clouds, Far above the tallest treet Yes, “’hat once was a weak little caterpillar, ls finally flying free. 11]
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 132
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thickened causing David to stumble and fall for- ward. His arms flailed in front ofhimselfsearching for purchase to stop his momentum as they broke the water, meeting resistance, as ifhis hands were going through sludge. He caught himself,barely avoiding meeting face first with the now gelatinous,...
Show morethickened causing David to stumble and fall for- ward. His arms flailed in front ofhimselfsearching for purchase to stop his momentum as they broke the water, meeting resistance, as ifhis hands were going through sludge. He caught himself,barely avoiding meeting face first with the now gelatinous, but still reflective, water. He gazed at his reflection, his hair had short- ened and now carried wisps ofgray,his brown eyes dulled, and his smile was now a thin line. \Vith some eflbrt he got up and saw that the leaves had fallen and turned orange, now sticking in clumps upon the canal’s surface, as the orange sun blazed above the door. The voice was back, but it wasn’t a gentle whis- per of wind that surrounded him and caressed his skin. This time the voice came from the darkness beyond the door, screeching through the air like a knife on a whetstone. “Just enter the door David.” David blinked, finding himselfin front ofthe darkness. The yellow sun had returned, the leaves had returned to their branches, and the scent of flowers flitted through his nostrils. He lifted his leg and found that the water once again parted like blue velvet. Looking down he saw that the gray in his hair had left, his eyes brighter, and the smile was back. “Come to me David,” The voice said, once again sounding like the wind, a wind that was tou- sling his hair and gently pushing him towards the door, “Just step through the door, and you’ll see me soon enough.” David looked from the door to back over his shoulder and found that the canal he was in seemed to go on for a straight line for a mile until 130 it branched ofl into other canals.“Wonder where they lead," he thought. Turning back towards the darkness, he gazed deep into it. Trying to pierce the inky blackness that pooled and clung to the doorframe,the water's surface, the air itself. A dark- ness that sent out gnarled tendrils that lurked,crept, crawled, slithered, and slinked from their side of the doorway, only to get rebufled when they met sunlight on the other. “Tsk, tsk," the voice scolded in its tinkling voice as a gust of wind forced David's eyes shut, “No peeking, that’s cheating." “\Vhat," David gulped, “what are you?" David gripped the edge of the door, the second his hand made contact the door started to rot, the leaves above grayed and dropped like stones, the sun had fallen behind the door. and in the dark- ness, glowing like a beacon, was a pale silver flame that with each flicker sent a chill of...finality down David’s spine. Gazing into the flame, David saw himself. His hair was a now patch of white, his eyes holding the expressiveness ofa piece ofdead bark and his smile was a toothless thing with gray gums. The reflec- tion in the flame spoke to him. i “Step into the Darkness David! You've no- where else to go!" David looked at his own reflection, and then shifted his attention to his wrinkled hand gripping the rotten wood with a white-knuckle grip. Looking forward at the silver reflection, he shook his head and took a step back, slowly releasing his grip on the door,till only the tips ofhis fingers were brush- ing the edge. “You won't escape me David. Regardless of what path you take, I will always be at the end!"
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 101
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& how we tell each other lies about the good-oldays in the war Because eventually we’ll have that conversation: You’ll ask, “ls god dead?" “Yes,” I’ll answer you, “and we killed her." 99
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Murphy Square 2016, Page 046
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FAT Marisa Mosqueda 44 Fat stomach Fat thighs Fat as Fat people doing fat things Fat jokes Fat so fat it needs its own zip code Fat camp Fat mlls Fat genes Fat girls need to lose weight Fat body Fat lady sings to help you make a point Fat shame Fat hale Fate lies Fat words hurt more than fat lips...
Show moreFAT Marisa Mosqueda 44 Fat stomach Fat thighs Fat as Fat people doing fat things Fat jokes Fat so fat it needs its own zip code Fat camp Fat mlls Fat genes Fat girls need to lose weight Fat body Fat lady sings to help you make a point Fat shame Fat hale Fate lies Fat words hurt more than fat lips Fatphobia Fat fists in the fat air Fat pride Fat chance I give a shit
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