http://slow.writerscafe.org/Gary%20Camaro The original writings of author Gary Camaro en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776010162 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The boy’s stomach was in knots. It was an obvious observation. I held the gat tightly in my right hand & pointed a good five inches from his face. I breathed heavy, but low under the bandana covering my nose & mouth. The brim of my fedora fit snug & low over my brow displaying my b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/254185/                        On a hollowed memory of my bender & what I can remember most was her ghostly smile through the dense blackness of night.      &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231051/  A maddening glimpse into brownher sights, wide with glowher psyche, tender with inkshe dances across my page with literacyand words I can not expressor spell properly under medicationher youth, a spirit of the Easther lips, drunk to the touchsmiling with humorinside a poem,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231047/                            The neighborhood still looked the same. It wasn’t the nicest or the cleanest of neighborhoods but, it was still home. He derailed off t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231046/             I was resting my insanity inside the mouth of the Lyon. The underbelly of the backroom evening rotted with the sounds of a simple FM bloodlust that wrapped around my liver & started a slow burn. Not unlike the slow leak of life.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231045/                        He heard it off in the distance. From about a quarter of a mile or so. The stampede. The rumbling thunder across the prairie floor. A squadron of five of the most ruth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231044/  The retched disembodimentthat pours down the back of my throatlike pride on fireand fuels my uncomfortable sobrietymy flesh of unwanted disdainmy bottle of broken Englishthat I accidentally knock over in a sarcastic arm gesturetrying to explain my furyin molten words of colli.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231041/ It was the on bank of the Irish Seathe tides rolled incold & desolatelike the eyes of a beggerwith empty palms, forsaken & scalpeda Whitehaven heaventhat danced around my hunger& led me to the belief& a feastthat drunk my memoriesfar from shore.The rolling hills.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231040/                      She played the roll of tangible amongst the tail of downtowns shake, rattle & roll another number blues. The scat that sat with my lingo, stirring & fishing for the lime.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231039/                     Morning glorious & Pacific time zone bright shining across the bluest sky hed ever stared at before without a blink. The iron express that roars cold upon the rails of injunction th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231038/                  I attempted to breath. The night was stale & littered with rhyme. It crept upon me like radiation. My bones become jelly & sarcastic to the touch. The weather cold, but vacationingly warm for thi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231037/  It wasn’t what she said that made me snap, but the way she said it. All cocksure & positive. Like she actually thought she knew me. Who I was or what I was about. The way I carried myself…maybe. The way I drank…definitely. But she couldn’t begin to believe the r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Gary-Camaro/231035/