http://slow.writerscafe.org/misshoneyfoot The original writings of author Merryweather Honeyfoot en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776215981 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 my interpretation of said film. you really need to see it in order to understand what i'm talking about, but there's some interesting ideas presented in it. this is just me taking them in. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misshoneyfoot/533246/ you were cold like a new menu. you flowed over me like a stream of dead flowers or wine or a last drop of water from an almost empty cup. you were the burning feeling. the fiery passion inside my hollow head. the divinity of education. excitement. conversation happy as the third eye of infancy. laug.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misshoneyfoot/529878/ i span the length of reality and nihilismfrom middle finger to middle finger. a fire burns on the lakewith no water wet enough to temper it. flames of dark tangerine and scarlet swallow me whole, cinch my skinand devour my insides. no death. will this end soon? i wonder. how much longer could.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misshoneyfoot/529872/ green fades with ease into the dark and hollow trees *fake peace* preaches the sky's blue.my body sinks deeper into my shoes.i am not standing here -- the barrier hiding reality is distorted but clear.the birds fly to nowhere.the bees think a nest in my hair.i want to be tucked away with t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misshoneyfoot/529856/ while the arms of treesand the seeds of dirttried so hard to make sure that no one was hurti crawled along the path,realized i better turn aroundi drank a sip of the sap,knew i had to silently sounda call to the world, to humanitya song to the unconsciousto immortalitybecause y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misshoneyfoot/529851/ idle fingertips. shaking joints. you don't tell me what you know. am i there or am i not? either way, i reap what i sow. sew some flowers into dirt. stitch. stitch. i've perfected my knitting technique. as i write this with yarn entwined around my fingers. they'll grow to flowers, my fingers will. b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/misshoneyfoot/529848/