http://slow.writerscafe.org/e1ektrikb1ue The original writings of author Suicidal Cupid en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775510278 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The strange faces and lost wanderers gather under a desolute moon. Their hopes, wishes, and aspirations beam through the sky-lit aura of their eyes. It is here that sleep brings them. Beneath this twilight, they dream as one. Bonded together by the cries of the heart, they forge an everlasting quest.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/e1ektrikb1ue/512288/      My blade sliced through her tender skin quiet smoothly, as I removed another piece of flesh from her white, naked stomach.      Just the way I liked it- the less pain there is, the longer she’ll stay conscious. And I wanted her conscious. I want.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/e1ektrikb1ue/503730/ I can't tell you which part of them tastes the best, but...I can tell you it's addictive. I wouldn't stop even if someone paid me a million dollars. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/e1ektrikb1ue/503725/ A shadowed face grins at me through a ceaseless smile. The clouds part, momentarily, long enough for me to grasp a winding wave of glimmer. A trick into misfortune or a sadistic game to be played? The shadowed face leaves the questioned unclear. To the glimmer i hold tightly. And to the shadowed fac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/e1ektrikb1ue/502963/      The quest for resolution did not bid him company. The tides of comfort passed, unfelt, and untimely to the extend of his reach. His journey was clear to be soon over.      Those he held dearest were the keepers of his aching chest- his insides throbbed wi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/e1ektrikb1ue/502576/ Beautiful and dying,In the shallows of his keeping,Drown the wildflowers.Too much rain has left them miserable.And the dying sun has turned them weak.He looks within,Toward the colored fields in which they once grew,And finds it all now black and white.This place where he found h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/e1ektrikb1ue/502445/      He wanted to run. He wanted to flee with great haste- away from the cold, chilling air. Away from the grisly tombstones and foul, putrid stench of decaying lost hopes.     But something was stopping him.     His feet became quicksa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/e1ektrikb1ue/502408/