Just how terrible are humans as a species? Bad enough to open all the cages? Bad enough to let the animals out? Maybe bad enough is bad enough.
There is something deeply troubling about pride. Of being better than. How do the gods handle pride, which has existed as long as they have?
So much to covet. The wanting is intense. Cutting, even. And for a surgeon, sometimes the cutting is as close as it gets.
This Senator has some explaining to do. It’s an inquiry, presumably under oath, and words matter, like they always do. So just what are you insinuating?
In this place, you don’t need to work hard to have it all. Good fortune is yours if you want it badly enough. It all comes down to a roll of the dice.
If we can have a chicken fingers poem, WHAT ELSE CAN WE HAVE? Gluttony, set to rhythm and served piping hot, straight from the fryer.
After a hard fought war, it is nearly impossible to escape the brutalist sin: wrath. Beware your excuses, when women’s bodies become the spoils of war.
Post-coital but pre-marital. The sinner contemplates his morals, his lady, his bed, and the meaning of fidelity. To what? To whom? To what end?
It was a day that changed us all. A day that broke us all. A day we’ll all remember, even when we try to forget what we’ve been told to never forget.