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inamourata's profile
AGE:
27
LOC: NY, NY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: August 19
LOC: NY, NY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: August 19
I’ve been writing since I was a child: stories, poetry, much of it personal as I’ve been an avid journal writer for many years. I write mainly for the cathartic release. My love of words is a passion quite possibly influenced by my late father who has written many poems and a few screen plays, one of which he recently completed turning into a film. This is all just experimental for me right now; a place to store and receive a little bit of feedback on the things that I write on a whim. I truly do not know what makes a poem ‘good’ and I just write what I feel and enjoy reading whatever moves me. One of my greatest dreams is to write and publish a novel someday, though I suffer from indecision and lack of organization. I have many ideas fo…
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It gets worse every day. Technology drives people further and further apart from one another. Connect to your Iphone and disconnect from humanity. We're social creatures turning into robots. Morning hellos and nodding heads have been replaced by finger stampedes on keys and touch screens. Our ears are plugged and pockets stuffed with toys that ring to urge us to communicate yet ignore the world. The subway roars with passing trains and the rustling bodies of strangers who enter and flee, but ...
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It gets worse every day. Technology drives people further and further apart from one another. Connect to your Iphone and disconnect from humanity. We're social creatures turning into robots. Morning hellos and nodding heads have been replaced by finger stampedes on keys and touch screens. Our ears are plugged and pockets stuffed with toys that ring to urge us to communicate yet ignore the world. The subway roars with passing trains and the rustling bodies of strangers who enter and flee, but ...
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I find myself stifled and drowning in floating strands stripped from feathers. Shreds of my own dignity filtered through the airy spaces between my containment. This room is becoming increasingly violent as my ears flood with the primitive scream of the cockatoo. We have imprisoned our lovers and friends; these basic little angels for a prettier view. I run my hands over the silk of my night gown. The beat to this noise is like a slow death. I'll serve my punishment for this kind of betrayal....
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How It Came to Be that I Watched an Episode of Some Lame Reality TV Show
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