http://slow.writerscafe.org/tintedsunshine The original writings of author A Girl en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776050771 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 In an isolated corner, surrealism swirls around me. The hubbub of the common creature is being co-created in the distance, but I face away unto the illuminated screen. More familiar sounds are closer to my drums, , and I reminisce past times to pass the current. Is this really life? I ask myself&h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1124765/ Thy dormant soul liesin rest;Patiently seeking the one whom,  Shall know me best.Thy quiet sobs go unheard; Hide away, in the darkness, The solemn thoughts seemingly absurd.Around and around we go; Faces and faces, But no one I ultimately know. Then from nowhere, a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1120772/ This piece is graphic, read at your own risk. .........................................................................................................I dreamt; I dreamt of an atrocity.  There was a man. He was old, and worn. The pain that glaredfrom his broken eyes mirrored mine, and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1111839/ The relative nature of all human beings is indistinct; untranslatable. We live out our lives, pretending at times when others are looking, that we have found some sort of happiness. But in truth, and through our art is it plain to see, that we are all barely alive; hanging by the f*****g shreds of o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1107891/ Pretty burns cross her hands, reminding her to mind the flames, for they will surely burn you. A grey and orange splattered cat licks them gently; an intuition to ease the pain. With her better hand, she returns love to animal. Another of the same species, sits quietly at the edge of the bed, watchi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1104748/ This body, an Earthly temple, has been covered in secrecy and in shame. It has been covered and clothed in textile, so as to hide itself from the other body's eyes. This body has been raised to see its perfect self in an imperfect light, but beneath the layers of lies, lies a story; a story of life... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1104348/ The crystalline dew drops,Dance gently upon my window seal,They burst one at a time, plop, plop, plop.The sky in background is lightly brushed with teal. The smell of petrichor,Exists within the cleansing air, It seeps quietly through the door,Thus reminding .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1102474/ A cool breeze softly brushed the back of my neck; my lungswere thankful for the fresh mountain air.  I was sitting in my room, my fortress, my sanctuary.The quite tapping of the keyboard’s keys reverberated through the dimly litroom. I didn’t know what I was writing about, I j.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1100176/ "Life hit me like a freight train."That was supposed to be the opening line to my first novel.I thought of it one day when I was attempting to describe my life and it alwaysstuck with me; it was catchy, and so, so true. Ever since I can remember, Ihave had an intimate love affair with writ.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1098849/ Is it merely the word unspoken that strangles me in such a suffocatingmanner? Is it that ‘unnatural’ urge that resides deep within that suppressesme? Or is it my silent cries that no one seems to hear nor see… I suppose anyof these repressions could be to blame. What I don&r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1098804/ It is this Self, thatI hate;Why, I often debate.I want to hide inpity and shame,To this world, Isometimes wish I never came.I want to breakmyself and bleed,I wonder…was it himthat planted this seed?Afterwards I inhaleputrid smoke;All the while hopingthat I choke.Then I lay down .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tintedsunshine/1098776/