http://slow.writerscafe.org/descartes The original writings of author gunagya sokal en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776158949 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 She had little idea that i had died. I kept that almost as if it were a recluse, to heart. Who knew that i'd have trussed her hair tie around my neck and hung myself to the dim-lit, short legged chair into the corner of the debris of my room.I'd seen her leave just a few minutes ago - but obvio.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3126147/ ⠰⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿₊ ⊹✩昨�-�の午後の昼はも&#.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3122956/ THE SHARP HEM OF H((hEelMelmHEMLEHI)S TEELTH; scalpels wrenRIGFOURc"h''^o0e'd And F$flungNUTTED BOLT right RbughetwEEn the fleGHshH of hHIs GUMS_s the VIR⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀&#102.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3122953/ upendum, snibble, crepe'd dirt that was dense at faucet;pleaded on his right knee, too. lashes were long. i slithered, vertical to cactii stem, pouted in all his a( kligatory truth; breastplate;though i'd couldn'tt not hold the weight of water that it could hold.grief outpaces my.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3122770/ the pressure cracks her ribs. tyranneous. a carnal split, cleavage; it was a soft colour of sienna. softly wheatish. caramelized. only for the good chunk of her skin. she was a commodity. my love of the ship sailed; with her heavy chest and her thick, burrowed pink lips. i was gl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3121938/ nauseous, quaking body. ruled a thousandth' anxiety.skin was all scale, all scale. gleamed, metal. steel, sheen.i am a burglar. i squelch,gurgle suffocated. gutted. veteran now seeks refugee in even under the war trend.i gagged. when was the last time i was offered cour.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3121875/ loneliness. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3121013/ existential angst. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3119535/ the water on trinklets, on the rubble of ourselves,rubbered, birds chirped on her neck where the crawdads once sang,the race to be the greatest motherf*cking species on planet earth;for who had told the bird?!the sorrow once bellowed me too;a chase for the once familiar god.rob him of his thous.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3057062/ oleiya bindu, leftist breast; rightist apostle.christ.admittal of god's link. her chin divided into parts, whimpered parts of her took pain; basked under his sun;the thousand of a children she'd witted; the lands you cultivated. lay in the hem of our hay. a slight whisk.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/3057015/ this dissonance grew in me. i'm going to kill myself very soon. i'm going to kill myself very soon.i succumbed. i promised you i would. i whimpered, hiccuped, pathetic;i shuddered; hitched. i panned its apex,my blade glinted, gleaming red it flared open my trunk;protruding in the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2964614/ q. what is a shower? lead fulcrum. a scotch of pain. leopards' pancing on the plastic, hollow of my marker. they're spotted. oblique.this heavy, weighted downpour of graphite on the surface of my skin and lead it is; a band of light on the sheen of its matte black skin. i feel the water (l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2964274/ i drowned in a farther distance there, rohit, where me and father fished once for mother otter, she was our liberation, she was "our thing";and all i could remember rewriting - was i wearing a red, striped checked shirt? my glasses were caught up from fog; the smudges on the spec.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2963736/ making art out of this space; thin, gaping air,struck, quite like mucous, between and right in front of the face of my tongue and my esophagus runs a straw that i owe my life to, only to suffocate on it;like rivets, on my blue, boyfriend jeans, punctured;it has been difficult. i don't know the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2962711/ anthem of the outsiders. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2962373/ surreal. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2961862/ light of my life, fire of my grief. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2955362/ dont want to do it my heart hurts,unturned chapter of my life. she's leaving just right tomorrow.i dont know if i can really sit with it anymore.it unsettles me,. it uneases me.cant save the world,cant save s**t.cant save her.i grieve her too.the grief of which unknopwn angst, of which unkownho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2954366/ swans,- breathless, ribbed; in the quite quartet of your performance, a saxophone, your hair was a part of my walking rythm,headless, it plummet once - on the cold, frigid octave of my winter, the frigid warmth of the indifference of my grief had set me lit,i am deeply uneasy wit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2953531/ i grieve you, last night i almost wailed my insides out and i still couldnt hold the painyou brought me,you brought me grace, you were everything i couldn't be.i write this not so that i want it so much to mean something. but what we have between us - that needs to grow. you need to grow. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2953499/ confession. cumbersome.insignificance. distrust.IIthe toe; the nail of which chipped. my eyes hear and my ears smell. i grew cumbersome.i cut my skin like razor and butter and it felt nice.my blade made love with my soft, supple skin beneath the wrist. now even the gods didn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2952094/ the loss of a life of expression, and guilt and shame.my life has passed for what must have been laid as the formative years of a creative youth of choice, free expression, independence, will.free-will. if only art wasn’t criticized.if only the world understood and held space for my pain and k.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2950773/ the second splinter of the spittle on road,i'm f*****g nauseate, nauseate, pick a heavy brick, smash a head, the dog on the side of the pathway  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2949723/ catharsis. the refusal to admit.only serving the witness.never fitting the convention,being cut out,never feeling like i deserve to hear what i do, the reality of which staunches me,often alone, often breathing.choke me not, overachiever. faker. fakist.pity. pitier. only res.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2943827/ noble your heart is, umi,noble, like diamond, very sapphire-like;i am terrible lonely.you do not wish for more than to resist. you do not wish for more but to orchestrate. you do not wish for more but to give it out. you are inscrutably so little of yourself.like-satire, my heart pumped, from all th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2943150/ across the tomb of the spirit,and to the phoenix she abodes by the light of day and sun; she holds her children, not so many to count, her breasts aslip; http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2939994/ patron,my saint!my woman;i take care of you as not enough to love, and for my love has only proved docile;dirty and bereft - my petty heart is. nonchalant, i have been.LANGUID,your blatant f*****g pig, of worry;how quotidian; how foolish; and incisive, oh;my lugubrious, lugubrious self,i'm utte.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2937532/ if there is one thing that i'm familiar with, it's pain.i want to kill myself, my depression worsens and i feel choked,and its this morning,depression's getting extreme.im hitting the lowest end that ive possibly even-...im at the lowest bar, now.this is extremely f*****g worse and this cannot .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2933175/ helpless child. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2932042/ ( .I-I_I._I_*]. ){.}snippets, like little rock-lings, half-buried, and bucked;crawl to the surface of earth; small pawed,behold, thy rulers, in great fashion -the kings and queens, of will-bury and alike;i dress in black, a magician's hat, a navy tuxedo, boxed square and ironed; and my sho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2924584/ III http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2923863/ breadsticks. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2923072/ "sir, kruger; writing from -" scratched ink. blue. 12:34 P.M. expresso saviente damuer; a postal on miller simmons street, J-143EB, paces left to rue-vo-baurel, paris. newspaper stocks, french country. (typewriter sounds) *"the royalty is upset now, mrs. bailey. and you are out here with y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2918990/ in radio statics, i exist; (sing chorus, sing chorus) here, there; where do you stand? where do you stand?your heart beat rises;my feet dance; i'll sever my limbs; you are perpetual;chase me down, it chases me down;you run, you look back -break your bones, butyou will not escape;my catacom.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2911858/ I(the unknown, the silence) - if my skin tremors of god; athens, and my pores vapour out, into this sky of abstract faith; (it resonates with shivers of pray), from the failed and forgotten, your cowardice;- my forgiveness, for i speak the language of foreign that no man can conc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2909497/ IIhelvetica, i watch you pace around the room in steps - four - three; two then one,you're covered in white silk; a vintage film,dipped in coffee, of whisking milk; the air, it lifts your hair - of each strand,that i've counted, a million and two;my hand sinking, inyour pale, indie skin;&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2908313/ my skin of rubber, melts;along your iron, hot silicone seams;as you lean, with intrigue,glancing with wet lashes - adense petrol heart; it beats, and carries in agony; a weight denser than earth, in factory;it collapses breach - from its own forbearance;spitting cries o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2907416/ this scene is set from an operation room, and reflects the author's insight into loss and grievance. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2904251/ Stuck inside, my eyes sightful inwards;I stand holding the bars within me that confine,myself to a solitary recluse, darling;I wish I could know what you mean,when you tell me that it is you care;I would pull myself out of the grave I’ve dug,and rub my face with earth soaked;from tears, and in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2903609/ ( pitfalls deep into the consonants of my sound,i hear a deep black void, screaming in death echoes;with slipping crumbles of rock, the great ledge;on the edge of a brotherly mountain.)*beneath me envelopes darkness, a paradox -of choice, letting go of the rock or holding steadfast,to a hand, her ey.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2903368/ trilogy? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2902851/ "i wrote as i burned, i was so in love with you. yet, so distant." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2897874/ i love title fight. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2895811/ to light the lanterns, of your bodyto what could've been, and to what we were,i light them as they burn ablaze.grief, hold my cryhold my mouth tight,to mourn a loss, to grieve. my heart sinks, deeper within.clench my mouth;i'm utterly broken, and that i feel,and i grieve, so overwhelming.perhaps, yo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2890737/ within me, a lost summer,i lay under oblivion, thoughtless; nothingness.my body, an empty vessel; pervasive of an infinite spirit. meandering ways, hit on the head with a brick, lostin the grays,lead me back to when i was happy.bruises; cover them up with dust;a lost glory.get ba.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2884577/ dream pop. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2874574/ winter flakes http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2873616/ renunciation http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2872323/ is this it? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2869134/ Presence. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/descartes/2866892/