http://slow.writerscafe.org/brian742 The original writings of author B. Lapinski en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776041461 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 She told me that she loved meThat I was the glue for her broken words" I am misspelled' I told herGrammatically incorrect in all the wrong areasI don't want to burden herNot with run on's or punctuation...Not with rainy apostrophes or illegitimate periodsI am not who she thinks I amI.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/1141537/ I've been here beforeIt has become unrecognizableAnd the truth isI've missed it oh so much...The leaves have yet bloomThe forest is thick with branchesAnd I am wanderingPrayingBreathing soft gentle stepsfrom the soles of my feathered featthe sun breaks into shadows on the dirt fl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/1141508/ I tried but couldn't save hershe was lost in herselfin her godin her books..I couldn't talk to her...she hated conversationI couldn't pray with herbecause I didn't believeI couldn't read to herbecause my voice reminded her of her fathershe would sit on the sofadrinking wine with legs crossednever sa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/758077/ I am writing to you from this ledge..from this perch high above you..am I really hereare you?antlike citizensoff and wanderinglegs working overtime to pay for heatthe dirt is cold and frozenit is late winterand I am watchingI need a deep thawyou need fire and brimstonethe k.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/520258/ Forget your shoesI insistedas we ran from the burning buildingShe said her pumps meant everythingmade her feel tallbeautifulcleanoptimisticlike the fresh scent of a new caron a hot summer daywith the windows upand the air conditionerblow that fresh scent in your faceover an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/263515/ I read in the paperthat this kid I used to hang withshot anothermuch younger boy on a bikeI remember sitting up the playgroundhigh on potand other sedativespicking on this kidTo me...it was all in good funthe name callingthe punches friends throw atone anotherin the dry bor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/258970/ She took my poetry to heartthe weepingnon rhymingcausticwords of my beingand began questioningthe significance of our relationshipI told her that theyare just wordsthat they mean nothingor that they are in no wayrelated to our livesHoney...I saidam I an old manthat pisses.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/257370/ I stood there for awhileafter she walked awayblue dress waving to meas the wind of our relationshipsaid a silent goodbyeI crossed my armshigh up on that cliff's edgewatching the sun sinkand my world with itI had to laugh at twilghtit brought so much more than darknessmore than .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/247628/ If you ever stood stillwith the ground pressed to your bare feetthe grass in all it's coolnesson a day that seems limitlessThat is but a small touch of loveThe way she makes me feelher hair like the earthcreates all beautycreates landscapes from her lipsto her torso where the photo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/247131/ We sit togetherin a corner boothof some chrome covered dinerout near the interstatetalking about serial killersover strawberry cheesecakeand cherry coke'sI can't seem to get my thoughts past the sodathey use real cherry juiceand it kind of just sits on the bottomto me...this is a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/246424/ She said that she loved meloved my personalityloved my kisseson her slim lipsloved the waythat I made loveLoved everything about mebut she also saidthat I have my faultsmy changesmy anger issuesmy alcohol induced soap box speechesso I fortified myself....Is this wrongam I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/244023/ I can't stand what I signifya lonelydefiledold manwith nothing to losebut the indignityof wiping his own a*sand the very little I get from my pensionand a wife who has been dead for six long yearsI try to hold onto those those memoriesbut they'll eventually take them tooI own a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/243581/ I always play these scenarios out in my head. These long drawn out mental skits of love and the perfect woman. I’ve been writing these garbage romance novels for far too long now. Every two years or so I have yet another best seller and it draws me closer to insanity. The fan mail pours in and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/240633/  1 A love story can begin many different ways. It can capture the reader with deep pockets of romance. It can breathe hope down into one’s own heart and help them believe that there is somebody for each and every one of us. . It can scream “I love you” from the highest.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/240632/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/240631/ Your rightmaybe I do try too hardto pump out these wordstypingtypingtypingreadingreviewingediteditthe keyboard loves meloves the touch of my editing fingersI make it feel like a womanlike the love of my lifelike it actually means something to meI ravage my keyboardlin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/240538/ It's noon and still have yet to draw a bathto paste myself to the ebony and ivorytile wallthat is closing in on meI need to wash awaythis hangoverput a hot wet clothover my faceand breathe deep spiritual breathsI need the steam to encapsulate meto become my cell wallto allow me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/236189/ I think it's stupendoushow society workshow we drive our fat carswindows rolled downon hot summer dayscigarettes resting between two yellow fingerssinging along to the radiofilling our hungry tanksat 3.50 a gallonthanking our country when it fall to 3.15getting facelifts stapling.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/233578/ They rustle inbreaking the silenceof an empty auditoriumI...behind the curtainarms crossed waiting for my introductionwaiting for that big bright lightto envelope meto heat my skinto force away the fear of the stageI can hear them scurry to their seatsthe women putting their purs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/233559/ In the tub I submerged myselfso that the water covered my mouthbut not my noseand I breathedwaiting for my prey to comeMy legs bent at the kneesfeeling the coolness of airthat the rest of my body was not in contact withI wanted to dreamto thinkto liveto be there in the bathtub .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/231656/ She told me that she admired meover breakfastin some run downmom and pop joint up in the heightsI didn't replyjust raised my eyes upfrom my eggskept chewingtook a swallow of black coffeegrabbed a napkin from the dispenserwiped my lipscovered the remainder of my foodlike it wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/231061/ I don't really rememberrecognizing the changing of the seasonsAs a child I remember the warmthor the coldor the dead leaves of halloweenor the snowor the rain of springbut somehow I always missed the transitionfrom one to the otherOne day it would be 10 degreesthe next it would b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/229058/ How many poems can I producein the course of one year?1001000only stopping between each to get a cup of coffeehave a smokef**kwork part timeand watch the weather channellay on the sofain nothing but my underwearstuffing my face full of potato chipsand .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/228607/ she took a photo of mesitting on the bedguitar in my lapstrumming an old Dylan songlooking as if I had just lost the worldor just found itor fell apart from the insideI could see the pieceshanging from the fretboard  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/228095/ I can't help but to think about my childhoodand way it has affected meand it made me so god damned paranoidand so f*****g scaredI can't help but to think about about all my old addictionshow I still fight the monkey awayand how he sits on my front porchhanding me the mail everyday.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/228091/ I don't need any kind of formatMy life is all twistedand knottedand nothing ever makes sense until the dust settleswhy can't you just relaxhave a cup of coffeepaint your nailsjust sit down and shut the f**k upand enjoy the dayenjoy our time togetherwe could make love on the kitch.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/228085/ "Why do you f**k like a woman" she saidAt that comment I felt my dick crawl upwardIt crawled into the cavern of my manhood and silently satwaitingwaitingBut the kick never cameI was bruised of coursemy dignity...still intactbut the fortune of my pecker was still fair game.... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/219458/ I thought she would have stayed for breakfastshared a cup of coffee and some morning chit chatbut she was gone before I even crawled my a*s out of bedthere was a note taped to my dresser mirrorwritten in lipstickIt simply said "never again"After reading the letterI put it to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/215366/ She walked into the kitchenbreathing valentine I love you'sand throwing Godiva like it was some sort of godI pretended not to notice her hair in her faceor the way she danced on the poetry of my crumbs"I made a plate for you" I said"mmm do I get jelly" she responded.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/214625/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brian742/107547/