Unlikely 2.0

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Editors' Notes

Maria Damon and Michelle Greenblatt
Jim Leftwich and Michelle Greenblatt
Sheila E. Murphy and Michelle Greenblatt

A Visual Conversation on Michelle Greenblatt's ASHES AND SEEDS with Stephen Harrison, Monika Mori | MOO, Jonathan Penton and Michelle Greenblatt

Letters for Michelle: with work by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen, Jeffrey Side, Larry Goodell, mark hartenbach, Charles J. Butler, Alexandria Bryan and Brian Kovich

Visual Poetry by Reed Altemus
Poetry by Glen Armstrong
Poetry by Lana Bella
A Eulogic Poem by John M. Bennett
Elegic Poetry by John M. Bennett
Poetry by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
A Eulogy by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Joel Chace
A Spoken Word Poem and Visual Art by K.R. Copeland
A Eulogy by Alan Fyfe
Poetry by Win Harms
Poetry by Carolyn Hembree
Poetry by Cindy Hochman
A Eulogy by Steffen Horstmann
A Eulogic Poem by Dylan Krieger
An Elegic Poem by Dylan Krieger
Visual Art by Donna Kuhn
Poetry by Louise Landes Levi
Poetry by Jim Lineberger
Poetry by Dennis Mahagin
Poetry by Peter Marra
A Eulogy by Frankie Metro
A Song by Alexis Moon and Jonathan Penton
Poetry by Jay Passer
A Eulogy by Jonathan Penton
Visual Poetry by Anne Elezabeth Pluto and Bryson Dean-Gauthier
Visual Art by Marthe Reed
A Eulogy by Gabriel Ricard
Poetry by Alison Ross
A Short Movie by Bernd Sauermann
Poetry by Christopher Shipman
A Spoken Word Poem by Larissa Shmailo
A Eulogic Poem by Jay Sizemore
Elegic Poetry by Jay Sizemore
Poetry by Felino A. Soriano
Visual Art by Jamie Stoneman
Poetry by Ray Succre
Poetry by Yuriy Tarnawsky
A Song by Marc Vincenz

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by Bill Berry
Part 10



That night, high on poppers, Tim watched television. Horror movies usually had him rock hard, and on drugs, Tim was always unstoppable. But tonight, the movies and drugs did nothing.

He stopped the movie. His greasy right hand fumbled for another VCR tape. He put in some other pornography. He'd been beating off for hours and only felt less interested. The pornography was loosing its grip. Moments of film that used to bring him pleasure did nothing for him now. It was frustrating.

Tim watched the new pornography. A young boy on the TV took his clothes off in a pile next to a bathtub. As the boy stepped into the tub, Tim watched the camera zoom into the small nub of his ass. The boy's anus winked sweetly for the camera as he started the shower. In a moment, a large man of about two hundred and fifty pounds entered the bathroom. The boy feigned surprise and the man grabbed the boy's cock. The boy pretended to protest, but the man kept on. In a moment, it was mutual.

Tim hated this kind of porn. It was so obviously faked. His cock shriveled up in his hand. He uncorked the poppers and inhaled. His cock grew again in response to the drugged intensity. Tim huffed the drug deeply. The familiar ringing in his ears began. The television glowed with the body of the boy-child being penetrated by the over-weight daddy. Tim let out a whimper of frustration. His hand moved up and down in a fist, but his cock remained only semi-erect and fairly unresponsive. The ringing in his ears came to a head and he jumbled into his thoughts. Then it was gone.

The poppers wore off in only moments. Tim sniffed them again and grabbed the remote control to the VCR. He paused the film for a moment: The child's body arched back in doggy style with the fat man behind him, grabbing the child's hair with one hand and holding his arm with the other. Tim rubbed his eyes. The poppers were really not doing anything at this point. He'd inhaled too much. He blinked. It was nothing unusual, really. Tim stroked his cock a few more times. On screen, in slow motion, the tape began to run so that the boy moved slowly back into the mass of flesh behind him. Tim groaned out in despair and relief. His cock was ripe. There was nothing he could do. He came uncontrollably as the new pornography reeled out before him.