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The-Cure-for-Consciousness-by-Peter-Jelen
http://www.barebackpress.com/The-Cure-for-Consciousness-by-Peter-Jelen.html
YOU HAVE A DISEASE. YOUR BRAIN IS INFECTED. But dont worry. Ernie Lobe, a fifty-four year old baker, sociopath, and father of two is looking for the cure, which he thinks he may have found. The only problem is theres a slight side-effect.death. But don’t worry about that either, because you can get paid to die. Or get it through. NOW AVAILABLE from BareBackPress.
barebackpress.com
Impressions-Of-An-Expatriate-by-Peter-Jelen
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Now Available from BareBackPress. I was pulled up to the top of the mountain. In a bobsled rollercoaster car,. Ten minutes of steady incline and anticipation. Only once I arrived at the top,. It was very unlike a rollercoaster. There was no sudden drop, no climax, no thrill,. Just a bunch of old stones. GREAT BIG. WALL. Only difference in reality,. From the pictures my mind had constructed. From pictures I’d seen. Were how many people were actually there. Whenever I saw pictures of the Great Wall,. Then ...
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Better-Than-God-by-Peter-Jelen
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ONLY HUMANS CAN BE HUMANE. Euthanasia is a firing squad, the Catholic Church brings the Son of Man back to life with the Shroud of Turin, doctors create imaginary mental disorders to further their careers, and God hands in his letter of resignation in the form of a suicide note while lonely young girls seek out pedophiles on the Internet just for some attention. List Price: $12.99. BISAC: Fiction / Short Stories. Or get it through. NOW AVAILABLE from BareBackPress.
barebacklit.com
2014-September-Poetry
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Are dumped by the Neptune Society. Stirred by the wake of an ocean liner. A Carnival cruise ship. Whose engines catch on fire. Shit flows down cabin walls. Passengers sleep in hallways and on deck. Two bitches fight over a can of sardines. Dante’s fifth level of luxury. My father cannot greet anyone. In his post-death experience (PDE). Because he has been transformed. The gulf stream has ignored him. And the ash of the ten thousand unfiltered cigarettes. This is my eulogy. As if it is parchment. Sucks on...