http://slow.writerscafe.org/itsnoteoin The original writings of author itsnoteoin en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776085578 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I don't look much in mirrors anymorekeep my gaze steady my posture correctexercise three four times a week I'min great shape. Really. Writing plenty running a lot haven't touched a drink (rather I throw it down no hands I'm that good by now practice making perfect as practice tends to).. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1559787/ Lying like this, with my head insomebody else's laprabbits popped into my head.I know I should think about sex, or weed, or what's tantalisingly close to my lips - isn't this a stupid thing?You hated every second dread pervading each twitch of their earsthat constant rain. I watched it twenty timesb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1542328/ Sweetheart, a quick poem about you and Ito read sometime when the rain beats incessantlyon your windowsilland you can't remember what it is to be happy -a quick poem about you, and I:who wept angel tears when it all came down;who ran reckless into the night, screaming our throats hoarse in amphetami.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1542241/ D'you like it?his eyes darthummingbird traces around inside his head. I lick my lips, shove hands in pockets, make myself small.He is begging for an answer so quietly you almost wouldn't hear it. Nervous energy I can not stand, and now he's an electrical fire. I'm stoned.Well? .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1524690/ I don't do as much talking.Lately, I prefer not doing - the hole that joins spokes the space that holds lifeholds death. Everything's a mirror to me.You, also, have receded. You're not as you werenot without scarsnot here.Can't you see? I'm happy without you.Isn't it a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1524515/ It's cold and April. I rise earlywatch my breath condensethink of nothing feel Time's pretty chasm yawning out in front of me.The old part of the city is around usbelow uspresent in every breath we take.I watch you.Content with coffeeand unwritten words,I sit. You soar... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1524507/ A girl, as usual,presses earnestly past elbows and anecdotesarmchairs and a******s.This is not a poem about her.She's looking for me. I'm a ghost when I need to be:along with my wit and good looks, it's my best quality. This is not a poem about me.She's usually dressed in red. Tonight, I have found .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1523953/ So: she grins at me so: when was the last time you told the truth?It is not a grin like any I have ever wore.When I'm mean I grow quieter and quieter until I might as well not be in the room at all. I sit forward in my chair. She's not looking at meshe's toying with the stained wood the sole span of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1523888/ I used to find solace in writing.Somewhere along the way, that tenuous serenity has taken its leave of me. I'm not one for blamingand this departure is no different to the thousands that preceded it. I take it on the chin. I take it as a man would.I take it to my secret Hades. I bid it a solemn, pla.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/itsnoteoin/1523887/