http://slow.writerscafe.org/schleef The original writings of author Rose Keeler-Schäffler en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776250058 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 a tiny piece of hope at the back of my mouth http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/schleef/500634/ I don’t know why I beat the s**t out of him. I don’t knowwhy I enjoyed seeing half of his face smashed on the floor. The sprinkles ofblood lightly decorated the linoleum, smeared on the walls and cushionedunderneath him like a giant blood clot. I’m not dangerous or anythi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/schleef/500633/ awful? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/schleef/495997/ This is the 343rd day I have seen you,this is the 7238th day I have lived,I do not care for you,and you do not care for me,and we do not know each other,how we may want to,And every day we see each other, we do not speak,we blink without eyes, our lips may crease,into a faint recognition of a s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/schleef/495864/ Imagine, an ideal villiage  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/schleef/495592/ Jack, my dear, wont you come here,and save me from my death,As the Queen of Hearts has threatened me,that when I die she'll claim her prize; thee,and it stings my heart to say,When my tongue do say such things,I feel the veins in my heart,tighten, bleed,and the power of life is abused,so much that I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/schleef/495588/ A bleach light, the blackest cat,a rusted rail on an empty pier,and a dated sign, too dark to read,the foggy words in the salty sea,And that paper hat, the broken guitar, balanced by a hump of sand,which the tide had crept over,and the items lay, tranquil, afloatMorning dippers dive, headfirst,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/schleef/495583/ Come on howling gale, blow our brittle bones southThe draught lingers salt and sand which stings our bleachy eyesFallen boughs and crooked wings may keep us where we are,Hungry nights linger heavy clouds of familiarity Tinny sounds of broken toys haunt our jagged childhoodSoft palms beat sweat,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/schleef/495581/