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Four times a day,
we help you
get the words out.
Write in any genre in
300 words or less.
Hit publish.
Read. Be Read.
Write. Now.
i'm stuck like this,
too lazy to do anything.
people move before my eyes,
and i yearn to be like them,
accomplishing things and venturing about in the world
but i don't want to. (more)
They tell me I sleep too much.
Some days, I will give them that. Some days I do, I close my eyes and die until 12 hours later some part of my brain lights up and calls me back to life. But some days I lie. They don't know(more)
wake up to the sound
of the world stretching, yawning
or just sleep some more
11 p.m. at iHop.

Man-hating pancakes, served with whipped cream and strawberry syrup, the kind that goes down sticky, sweet, and almost bloody but not quite. My roommate carved into her stack, I performed surgery on mine. We swap, like Victor Frakenstein. Yours for mine.

It's eleven-twent(more)
"Wake up. We're almost there."  

The plane window cover opens a crack. It's blinding. How long have I been asleep?  

"Long enough. Time to get up."   (more)
the fucking alarm won't stop.
can't it just UNDERSTAND that you want a little bit more sleep?
oh wait, of course it can't, it's an inanimate object.
whoop-dee-fucking-doo. (more)
"Mom, Mom, wake up, wake up, please, Mom. Mom. MOM!" She was sobbing, tears streaking down her face, leaving paths of clean skin amidst the dirt.
"Mom, please! Wake up! MOM!" Her arms were pumping, forcing her mother's chest up and down and up and down but still sh(more)
i'll know it when i really wake up
i won't only "feel it in my bones"
but i'll feel it
in even the tiniest corners of my body
where i didn't even know life could exist
I want you to just appear,
Appear to me after strange dreams,
I want to wake up from the dream of my life and
Be in bed next to you.
The shape-shifting girl was too close to me on my bed, cuddled up with me, with the idea that she can manipulate me into staying. Not this time.

I feel Roommate's weight on my bed.
Her tiny body is very still. Even in the quiet of room uninhabited except by my anxious ears she makes no noise. Wrappings of blankets and folds of clothing-just a bit too big for her minuscule frame-drown any slight movements.
-Wake up.-

I hear those words, reverberating inside me. How long have I stayed like this? I can't tell.

-Wake up.- (more)
if talking
didn’t take up
so much oxygen
i’d probably apologize
for having taken
zero point five (more)
Lao Zi dreamt that he
was a butterfly, or was
it the other way?
It's midnight, tick beats the metal hands, whining, of my grandfather clock, never owned by my grandfather. An old man with a tawny white beard, suspenders and wool socks. He didn't care much for time, so I remember.
It's midnight. (more)