http://slow.writerscafe.org/aaronfelix The original writings of author Aaron Felix en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775463548 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I was in a boxand I felt a lot of painthe kind a bird gets,I hate growing wings. well the box shrunk,my own breath caughtthe back end of a gagand I violently stuttered, having no ideas,no plans, no place to go but in.I think my blood got meunder the table drunk, tomorro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aaronfelix/456125/ Bro's are any modern manifestation of the good ol' boy. Middle class. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aaronfelix/455804/ The lightswitch, cooly touched,has for innards a metropolitanmesh. Country tis of thee, sweet land of liberty,jackrabbit protection for the hands. The cold of grandmother's house. Exposed voltage. Oh my, but I'vejust washed up. Kisses, kisses of death. The quick flame, french kissi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aaronfelix/455802/ Trade with me yourhappy optimism for my disbelief. I am the child with a paper sack, quarters destined for thearcade, no more than a cyborg muttering. And you, you are my militarywoman, satisfied with nothingless than revelation of lower species cuteness,the rescue martyrdom .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aaronfelix/455801/ Eleven Three, Impression One Route Twenty, Westside. Raindrops shattering out there,violent moisture, cyclonic wind animates the dark branches, out therethe trees in their thrashing dance against the sky. The bus driver keeps adding more warm bodies to the rescue; the glasssweats .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aaronfelix/455799/