http://slow.writerscafe.org/inamourata The original writings of author Roxanne Aponte en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776000736 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 pig's snoutsniffing outthe eggs in my basketresting ona baby's corpseof short legsandwhite bonessewn up tightslowlyscheming,eatingeach rotten eggone byoneAs I continue to carrythe egg basketover her gravewhere sherests in a bluecasketgetting paid by the foot she lies underburied aliveandfucking forh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/679423/ I've struggled for years with this feeling I called emptiness. It wasan interesting choice of words to describe my disposition for how couldI feel empty when the very reason I felt empty was becausethere were no feelings all. Oh, but emptiness carries weight andpushes itself against the lini.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/560869/ Why are writers one of the most likely types to be eaten up by theiremotions from the inside out? Or perhaps artists in general, or should Isay creators, expression-ists, those who must expel or transform. Whyare they the most likely to commit suicide? They have so much to offer.I am not nec.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/560859/ Last night, I dreamt I was on my knees and you were there with a belt inhand, whipping me, until I was red and heaving below your waist. Youpunished me like a sick child and cracked me open again, to this love.You hydrated the shell of my own creation until it melted. I opened, I gave. Like wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/515888/ The mess is I as I lie. I never go to bed before 4am and I alwaysunconsciously sit near the emergency exit. Could I be willing to lieunder the dirt further beneath the sky of our promised land? Choosehell over heaven, though maybe you were hell all along, and I neverreally completely made my.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/515880/ November 13, 2005 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/515876/ You're invisible to most, but very obvious to me because you shinethrough the foliage. The bad twin of the sun more deadly than the nightfor you burn black. You burn and you are not loved by the moon.Do not threaten to destroy me from your cover, the green, and myprogress. I believe in a nat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/515853/ Love. I once thought the same thing that could destroy me mightalso save me; nourish my lungs and strengthen my limbs, bones milk-fedand ready to take flight. My wings obey. Take me to your leader is thesong the bird sings for love makes it blind. Passions that rose andflooded every pore in .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/515134/ My love cannot stay. It's going to slip out the backdoor of my heart & make a clean getaway. After it kneaded your flesh once more. After its fingers felt their way up to your neck In the middle of the nightI thought about strangling youTo kill these sins:The WrathThe Pri.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/515127/ Saw you for the first time todaysince FebruaryOr maybe it was March,that was the last timeyou broke my heartYou were cool as alwaysEyes turned downVoice churned deepWith that swaggerI had to learn toslow my pace toYou walked me to Irving Place,kissed me on the cheekAnd I noticed that your scent stil.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/515124/ I can't feel you anymoreThe prick in my mouth,teeth at my neck,spinning a web of lust withyour tongue,making me burn tilI'm comingas your fingersreach into my gut,to pull out my lungsNot my heart,'cause that would be too kindYou wanted me to hold the lovewhile holding my breathwhile holding you inYo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/492425/ Nights like this I wish to rip out my bones with my hands and throw them against the wall. They would crash around your feet like little instruments so maybe you could hear me. Maybe you would play me a little song and I could be your music. I'd carry the echo through the hollows of my skull like a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/490945/ I'm a slave to the moonwhich is reflected below my waistThe internal madness howlsbefore shedding the forgotten eggThis body wants to make babies,but no one told her it's too late http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/490942/ The On Journals -- thoughts, essays, & free-writes. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/400538/ I am stuck here in this deserted blooming waste slowly feeding on toxins, but growinginto something pretty angel-hair blueor savory sweet like honey dewbetter get here before the bees arrive and suck the sugary milk from my candied breaststhey just want a piece of it  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/364486/ I want to be a child for youI want to go to your schoolAnd look away when I catch youstaring at me - in a short skirtmy legs long and fuzzedLike the skin of a ripepeach http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/306845/ Journal: June 16th, 2006 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/305856/ Prayer to my lover. Journal entry from 2004. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/305852/ You're cold candy,broken airdividing into my womblike an icicle, sharppicking at the edgespiercing its way through Bleeding out coilsof undertonesmarked by failures,burning in my eyes Deep inside catepillarswhich crawlthroughthe emptinesswith .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/305826/ Me and my sky-scraping lover, you see, we have our space. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/305814/ The beat to this noise is like a slow death. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/inamourata/305777/