http://slow.writerscafe.org/malech_lehr The original writings of author lark en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775997152 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15  I wanted to be dramaticand take a cigarette out of your pack, smoke it furiously as if hints of selfdestruction would stir you. I imagined breathing heavily while pacing the frontyard, taking deep drags and exhaling billowing plumes of anger. I wantedsomething visible. I wanted som.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/1020745/ They were horrible. Nobody coulddeny this. Even after she got that makeover from the Russian, her bangs werestill terrible. But something about Peggy Olson’s bangs was so perfect in itsawfulness. And we all groaned and begged her, in our minds or aloud, to fix herf*****g bangs. But if .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/1020743/ Not a word.You can’t sleep either,else you’d be snoring in the next room over.When I could, I dreamt of murdersand escaping with youfrom evil men,but that was probablytoo much TV.I don’t read anymore,just stare blanklywhile you walk t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/1020742/ attention-seeking whoredom. somebody boost my self-esteem and we'll go from there. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/991468/ morning stretching, & sunlightlike seagull song swimming acrossthe plains and mountains, desertand wheat fields… knees tanned, weswam naked in the fishing hole, sleptsolid until 3am. i miss the waydawn crept up on us each morning, the wayyou crept up on me, nights i stayed home;the foggy .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/596170/ today, i slipped into fever,and the dreams camewithout a single cool finger to ease them.the tongues i spoke melted off my foreheadleaving me to be little more than a ghost, hauntingfor hours below the sycamore.the crone in your basement.i screamed for hours beforei made myself s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/506131/ this is how it all began:he talked pretty and said nice things. i was a lonelily, broken sort of heartsick thing. more sick than hurt, more heart than broken, i suppose (though i'd dare say the two go hand in hand).he gave me a place to put this love that jesus was so cruel to impart upon my chest. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/503695/ every day, i say i put myself together a tiny bit more. a pot of coffee; a trip downtown. tomorrow will still bring the same hunger and antipathy, stretching towards sunlight only to feel my roots snap from beneath.i hope to glean cleanliness from being scrubbed head to heel. rubbed raw, pleading fo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/500806/ it felt like one of those mornings in california--a deep sleep woken warm in the van,salt sucking heat from our brows.a long drive; abandoned fields and noisy nights.i knew long ago that i was imaginary,the whole world made up of imaginary moving parts.you didn't try to sway me from this belief in n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/500419/ yes, dial my phone; place a call while i look away. yes--smoosh wiggly little fingers into ice creamand later, my eye sockets (and simultaneously:the soft places inside me).leave shoes strandedfrom one end of the beach to the pointat which we turn to leave. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/426959/  Professor Science once told me:Don't look at the sun!I thought he'd be whimsical,soft spoken, and worried, the waywe all remember our respectiveMa's and Da's being.Instead, he continued like this:Your corneas will melt from your eyeballs and stick to the backs&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/400763/ [i]...would I were beside her...[/i]... Would it matter? It is exhausting to be around people, and I'm exhausted by being alone. I want to sleep and at the same time, I don't want to be left, to do the leaving. Given the choice, I'd run myself out of blood and energy, doing nothing and h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/malech_lehr/396527/