http://slow.writerscafe.org/samiwalker06 The original writings of author Sami en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776363561 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 It slips inside her mouth, stinging like nettles.The smoothness of the meat confuses her senses.Creamy fat melts into the dark space between gum and cheek.Each thread of sinew seems to lash at her tender tongue.Spice lines her throat and caresses the soft flesh of her palate.She cries out .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/227865/ Sorry guys, haven't edited anything yet. Just tacked on a bit at the end, so it's a little longer than the first time you saw it. Otherwise, it's the same. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/223373/ You look away.As I reach my hand between the folds of my winter coat,You shrink in your skin.I peel the heavy fabric away, exposing myself.Heart huddled close to ribs.Lungs squirming wetly in their purple-black cavity.You glance sideways, catch a glimpse andSome angry bile spills f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/223359/ Underneath our beautiful paint,We are all chipped plates.I didn�t want this sweet potato, butI read somewhere that they can lift your mood.It�s too hot to eat, and the plate is chipped.All I ever wanted was a series of windowsTo hang in my backyard from branches.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/223357/ Thick pine needles lie on the pathSticking to the soles of my shoes.I walk feeling their soft resistanceBreak beneath my weight.Today the sky was merciless.With sudden horror, I stop. I realizeThe needles are not needles, butWorms. The kind I would joyfullyPluck and welcome to my.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/223355/ We pointed our tent towards her, lay with our headsin her direction.Looked out at her in the dark with curiosity and fear.We listened for her breathing all through our slumber,steady and fast.We couldn�t see her, but felt her writhing through the ground.In the morning, th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/223353/ All the pine trees have been shredded by your might. The smell of their death reminds me of new cars and holiday cheer. Every windshield is sticky with a mixture of rain and sap and green-brown needles. I can see you outside, dancing through the trees. I can hear you groping through the hallway,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/176094/ I love it when people strutAround inside buildings with unlit cigarettesDelicately balanced between their frail fingersAs if -At any moment -The pale tip could slowlyCrumble into embers and alightLike the slow, flickering ascent of electricityUp the Christmas tree.He�.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/176093/ My fingernails are now long enough to peel an orangeOr pop a tricky soda tab.When I woke up this morning because the sun wasBurning my skin through the windowThere were eight new sores, tender andCovered with a soft lens of puss and blood.One masquerading as a rollerblading accident,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/176089/ Getting up early and filling cloth bags full of long white radishes, so fresh you question the boundary between life and death.The sound of trunks clunking shut over tightly bound sleeping bags and grocery sacks of marshmallows.Wisps of steam from coffee cup, tail pipe, the breath of familiar mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/176084/ My eyes catch on the wisps of lightReflected on the water�s surface.I wonder what it would be like if I just didn�tTurn the wheel with the road.Everything is static.How long would it take to fill my tiny two-seater?If I went fast enough, could I make it to the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/176083/ Her lines are silver grace.Warm drunken breath disappearsDown inside a clunking bootInto which follow purple tights and the too-Exposed roundness of a toothsome thigh.She climbs through the windowPutting her wobbly foot on the seat.Her hand is hotWhen she presses it down on my knee.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/176081/ I always knew the strength of my mother�s hand.Limp-lipped, she laid me down on a clearing of soft dirt.In between my thighs, she carved a small bowl in the earth.I tried to close my eyes as my mother, purring, put herCool, soft hands on my stomach.The men were out hunting that.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/176078/ When you talk, I imagineThe hook end of a wireClothes hanger piercingThe tender skin behind my knees.The blunt metal pushing untilMy skin absorbs it, suddenly.In the root ball of my bodyYou are there, pressing thumbsOn either side of an importantValve. My tongue is rawWith you. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/samiwalker06/170648/