http://slow.writerscafe.org/Metempsychotic The original writings of author Trevor Bushey en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775980203 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I've fettered my heart to your bones.A tryst so ill-fated, I know. Fragility is mutualand anxiety's queues hurt the most. Oh, the most. Indelible memories; a ghost. You're not a girl, you're a demon host.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Metempsychotic/1179775/ Lyrics to a song I've written. I embedded a rough version of the song into the text area. It's in its primordial stage of development. I ought to expand on the piece and give it some substance. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Metempsychotic/1157567/ Existential concession. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Metempsychotic/1153996/ A countenance who's triste, who's lachrymose,   whose fixed epistemology is blithe  to what exists despite what makes her writhe  appeals to pharmacologists who aptly diagnose her with gobbledygook, give her a dose:  placebic pills administered for trials. &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Metempsychotic/1153994/ Sordid Salome,  the veils you wear and se'en divest  lie on the ground  like macrame.  Dances redound  a man impressed,  but I know, dear,  you're quite blase. Panache and flair  are mere pretense.  Y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Metempsychotic/1152871/ My conception of what the conscience is. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Metempsychotic/1152870/ A rather candid look at what constitutes my melancholy psychology. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Metempsychotic/1152866/ Oh, LORD, how I dreadYour clemency. How am Ito atone for sin? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Metempsychotic/1152657/