What must it be like for a woman to live with power over men rivaled only by God for the first third of her life, build her identity over her looks, only to feel it slip away as time tumbles by? Feel the shift in how people treat her, as though getting old is a contagious affliction?

Many seasoned porn whores develop an ability to check out at will. The girl, on her back has unlit vacancy signs where her eyes once were.

There they are. Two girls built like pagan fertility dolls, resting on their haunches, caked from head-toe in the multi-shaded come of every man who gave his offering before me

Viagra, Valtrex, Valium... you fuck enough strangers, you're taking a blue pill with a "V" on it.

I'm a Polaroid developing in reverse

The things left unsaid to people we care about, and the void those unspoken words leave, often have more impact than what is said.

I personally don't think about jumping because things can't possibly get worse... To the contrary, I contemplate it because I believe things probably will.

I hand him the single greatest work of fiction known to man: my resume.

The camera's greedy lens sucks my image through it and splashes my pixilated ghost across his face in pale blue light.