| Nauseating tobacco, and a dark laundry room at 2 AM. This came out. |
| Nauseating tobacco, and a dark laundry room at 2 AM. This came out. |


The TradeI've exchanged an overdue ring for a bag of cookies, sapphire, homemade, two and a half years ago.The Trade
I've given up a friendship for some dignity, still having regretful dreams a year later.
I left behind a good life for a crappy college experience, and my world goes on without me for three months now.
I traded a cigarette for a can of soda, the fairest so far; that was today.
I'd give it all away for a kiss on the cheek, to know things could be okay, if only for tomorrow.


:He:art theftDedicated to Lizbeth and Emily:He:art theft
Daisy and Vincent were in love. It's a long story, but here it is in short: She was a museum security guard, he was a thief. She had a fetish for criminals, and he had a thing for women in uniform. They both liked sex in big, open places, like empty art galleries. The story they told people was shorter than that: they met at the museum.
They held hands as they walked, passing along a cross-walk. Vincent didn't steal too often, and Daisy's paycheck wasn't great, working at an exhibition that lost a masterpiece every few months. They weren't rich, but they were comfortable and they could


Tobacco at TwilightSitting in a sushi restaurant, heart still racing - was it worth it?Tobacco at Twilight
I raced the sun on my bicycle. With a downward slope, and the wind in my favor,
we tied.
The sun creeping away behind the distant mountains, fighting the fickle wind for a consistent flame, I struggle to light a
fresh-bought cigarette.
I crave not the nicotine, but the mood.
Smoking the pack's first Watching the twilight's last I stuck around, on a busy street corner 'til there was only darkness 'til there was only filter  


For ElsieI moved away the long blinds that block the glass door, so I could look out at the lightly-forested suburbia beyond my balcony. The thin, fruitless palm trees, fans swinging restlessly in the heavy wind, reminded me that that I was both inside and, though far from home, still in California. Though it was hardly two hours from noon, my roommate was still in bed, allowing me some morning solitude.For Elsie
I kept a vague loneliness at bay with the company of one of my more exquisite green teas. Later, a fine black tea from China's Yunnan province would grace my gaiwan and decanter, bringing me to political thoughts. For the moment, I took pleasur
[link]
--
"In all my life, I've never known someone like you. And I hope I know no one else like you for the rest of my life. Because if I ever have to lose you, I know I couldn't do it more than once."
Your buds want tea.
--
Fuck it all, fuck it all.
Fuck, fuck, fuck
it all.
--
Fuck it all, fuck it all.
Fuck, fuck, fuck
it all.
Oh, that's right... you don't take college classes. You're still a kid in a sixth grade English class. Not only that, it seems to me that you are stuck in a level of reasoning even below your own age group.
You seem to hardly have crossed into Psychologist Jean Piaget's Concrete Operational stage, which takes place from the ages 7-12, and some believe sooner, where children cannot explain, without concrete examples, concepts such as truth, honesty, and justice. This means they cannot develop their own ideas on these subjects, as you seem to be completely cemented in your parents', and maybe at a stretch your immediate environment's sense of morality. With the stubbornness and ignorance you display, I'd put put you in the lower age group of that stage.
If you want to argue ethics, develop some of your own before you try whining in people's ears.
--
Fuck it all, fuck it all.
Fuck, fuck, fuck
it all.
Another example is if a girl has this necklace she really likes, and someone takes it away without her permission. Imagien this hurts the theft victim's feelings without her having done anytihng illegal or sinful, which are the only things that would make her deseve it. In that situation taking the necklace would also be an morally unjustifiable act.
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