http://slow.writerscafe.org/april427 The original writings of author May Flowers en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776010172 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Sometimes I am surprised to gaze at my reflection and find thatmy skin is not purple,or blue,or green. Sometimes I am surprisedto find two arms and not four, to findtwo legs and none more. Perhaps it is my mind that is blue and my heart that is green, like an overgrown.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661779/ They are everywhere:creeping down streets,weaving through crowds.Tell me, how did you get to be this way? Lostto the masses,frozen, thawed, kneaded like play dough by a stranger’s hand, morphedinto this shapeless form,colors withdrawn,faces indisting.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661778/ Bend, bend, pushoff the ground. My feetdisengage from the Earth, into the air, and then I’m d  ow  n,plunging toward the blue. My toes breakthe surface first and soonI’m completely enveloped in water.I am a fish,a rainbow fish,with scales a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661776/ Cut into my soul;pierce my affection with blades.Watch as desire drips from my veins,staining white sheets,draining sensations.Cut into my soul;slay my hope with a scalpel.Exhaust each nerve with agony.Torment the threads;vanquish the beat. Sink your teeth in mewith pa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661771/ Where did the words come from? I knowwhoever is responsible meant for something more,but now the words have lost all meaning. Ifonly the rain could wash them away, like waveserasing lines drawn in the sand, lines drawnby a child, with some vivid scheme in her head. The childgrows up eventually. The .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661768/ Those who wander the mazes of fatelinger perpetually in an abyss,seeking a completion lost in itself.One can never be that never was.Should worth be counted in tokens and drinks,or rather in legacies of grandeur?Perhaps the great is not always so great,unless put on display for recog.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661767/ I want a pack of cigarettes. I want to breathe in the toxins we were warned aboutas children in health class. I want to feel the nicotine handcuff me, bind me to it’s command, so I’ll know it wasn’t all a lie; something they taught us in those dreary c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661764/ Switching handbags is quite a job. I’m always surprised by what I find at the bottom:dirt, gum wrappers, failed attempts at polaroid pictures,receipts, dried-out mascara, earring backs,and a red guitar pick: all things thatbelong in the trash. Maybe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661757/ The wind carries songs of a million souls:free for all to catch, until they turn to ice.But earmuffs shield those who fear a chill;as the cold gusts chant, the warm refuse to listen,with nothing to cool the fire in their minds. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661752/ A flower, but not a rose;a beauty, but not in the field where she grows.Respected for all she's achieved,but not for all that she sees.Well-known but not known-well,she flirts with the porter of hell.In breaths between her scornshe wishes she had thorns.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661748/ Did you see the silver bird?Hear it’s metal heartbeat tick?A ring perched on that birch’s handan engagement between sky and land.Did you listen as it beat its wings?Like self-possessed brass tambourines,awakening the budding leaves,driving coldness to hiding.Did you s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/april427/1661745/