http://slow.writerscafe.org/darkdays The original writings of author chandlerl en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776021548 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 That which is the essence of void,Where no concious lives or lies dormant,But simply dies as never having existed before.Not once even to ponder, like you or I might,About what that emptiness is like.Not an empty stomach, which may Be satisfied by crumbs.We are concious.We know we are here and alive.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1419960/ Palpable- hell bent on destruction.To catch it earlylook for the first symptom- of expectation,Then the second- of resentment.For it to grow, just suppress it and then repeat. The sickness of rage- is infectious.It is sure then to rise- defeat.Find the weakness, in your armorand then again- repeat.B.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1351477/ Breath in...                ....one....two...three...Breath out...                 ....one...two...three...Breath in...    &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1337601/ Can anything save us?This world, falling and failing so fastour brains don't have capacity to see- not for long.Retracting into our cocoons of ignoranceWhere instant gratification, with money and sex are all we feel to consume.And why? Why is, or how can,it be human nature,to say thank you and thent.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1330309/ A world of passing wonders.A spectrum of emotions,that move about as wisps of cloud. When you're on the magic, high up cloud,it hurts so much worsewhen you fall down. So many little things that shift,so many things that with time,are shrouded in shadow. It's said,that for ev.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1309384/ And through the brave and wistful night,the moonlit breeze did follow. It carried the scent of earthly ground,the sacred eve of hollow.The veil was lifted and in the formof light the spirits dancedand for this night, this sacred daya hauntily rich and moving soundexpanded through the airand grasped .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1285858/ I look back and all I see is darkness...               with windows of anxiety injected fear...Then why do I want to go back?Is it that the fear knownis better met, or simply easier,then what is unknown?I know how to let the darkn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1285856/ In a perfect worldthere'd be no war.In a perfect worldthere'd be no discrimination.In a perfect worldthere'd be no people.Because we are not goodwith co-existing with other differences. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1285854/ I'm grateful to be able to write a sentence,even though it's on this napkin.I'm grateful to have met my sister,even though it took over 17 years.I'm grateful for the tears I've shedbecause not all of them were from sadness.I'm grateful for; my mother who raised me,my grandparent's who took us in and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1285850/ What's there to say?About the human race?There's a handful of peoplegood inside and out.Most can be good,but just can't seem to figure it out http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1285846/ Oh, how I once longed, for oblivion,the sweet encompassing pull of death.Oh, how I once longed for that drug,that perfect white cloud.Oh, how I wanted to punch her in the face,that release of tension and feeling of triumph.Oh, how I longed for these things,that would make some cringe.And oh, how sup.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1284139/ I hope one day we can all be the same,white, black, yellowgay, straight, bisexual men, women and transgendered.That one day the 99% will all have the same opporitunities as one another, regardless of the difference.So we can all equally be treated withless then dignity and a little m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1270417/ 'And smoke which obscures and suffocates, symbolizes blindness and the obliteration of the conscious.'Though the chair held more resemblance to a throne, which I guess is still a sort of chair, but I sure felt like I was on a throne. My arms bent to match the sides of its own arms, my ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1249537/ I fell asleep last night, my eyes closing and my head hitting the pillow with the undeniable knowledge that the next day, when my eyes opened, another year would've gone by. 17 years. 17 years and not a damn thing accomplished. To me birthdays are such sad things. Another year has passed and you kno.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1247232/ I can feel my mind go back to that timeto a place of darkness and pain.I close my eyes and my head makes a thudas it hits the wall behind.To a place of madness and terror, where my dreams were laid to waste.It started slow and then progressed, I had no one to blame but me.I went looking for somethin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1247192/ Freak.     Weird.     Crazy.     Failure.     Ugly.     Stupid.     S**t.     Insane.     B***h.     Lame.  &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1242433/ I started writing this last year, on the day of my 17th birthday. It's been exactly one year since then. This is a work of fiction based on fact, this is real, this is imaginary. This is life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1242423/ newspaper article for journalism. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1235083/ I don’t like tears.I fear the necessity of them.Fear that once the flood gates are open,the pressure will cease to die.That all it took to build them up, To the point at which they spillOver into the chaos and havoc, of All that had provoked me,Will be too much to get.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1235082/ Observation, fate, sanity vs clarity, social graces vs. reality, reality vs. reality, Life vs. Death http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1229996/ Two worlds coexisiting, pretty in the exact and beautiful in the abstract. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1228726/ Dear Jon,Here's the deal,here are my thoughts.This escalated both quicklyand not quickly enough. because there's so many thing I want to doand all of them I want to do with you.From traveling the world to sitting on the couch,watching T.V.The thing though, Jon, is,I'd love to be,in love with you,but.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1228037/ I went out to smoke before class and got preached to. Came back in...we had the following conversation... Ejoy. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1226454/ they sat oddly He yelled at herIt's interesting, she said, that you think your yelling intiminates me, when in fact, gives me the upper hand.Because without knowing it, you just told me your biggest insecurities, your biggest fears and your biggest weakness. Your weakness enhances my strength.He loo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1225572/ I'd rather date someone oldersomeone who looks at melike I'm beautiful.Treats me like an equal (because I am)Someone I have stuff in common with,who I have an attraction to.I'd rather not date someone my agewho's immature andlooks at me like I'm a dime a dozen (because I'm not)Treats me like less th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1221874/ I.  In your saddened voice  I can hear the honesty  known by the broken.II.   There can be no growth   Without open-mindedness.   No change without pain.III.    No trust and no growth    Willing to ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1219582/ THE DARKEST OF COAL             The popular poem by Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken,” is the basic view I’ve developed on my life today. Honesty, Open-mindedness and willingness, it is my belief, with a full stock of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1219579/ The winning doesn't matter,it's the willingness to trudge on.The sheer will to fight,with endurance- and perseverance.Even in losing battles, fight.Fight on and live another day.Another day is another chanceto put actions to words. If it's not workingthen you better find a n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1219576/ You look like you're having fun,I remember when I looked like I was having fun too.What a lie. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1219570/ I touch my fingers to my eyesand they come away wet.I realize, I was thinking of you.So bitter-sweet- these memories seep,from my mind to my spirit- deep.Blinding me to facts and rationality,binding me to the insanity of my brain. I was thinking of something you had once said .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1219569/ It's very late, or very early,depending on your viewand how literal you arewith times of the dayand how much a trivial thing like thatmatters to you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1219568/ A cigarette. The light is contriception.     The first drag-          Gives it life. In.    Out.         Keeps it going. Breath out, &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1219566/ Revenge http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1219560/ How a change of perspective can be the thing that moves you forward. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1217158/ The, book, The Thirteenth Tale, is unlike any book I've ever read before. It fits the criteria of a mystery novel, while simultaneously being unlike any other mystery book I've read. The pages are not filled with murder, that inevitably get solved at the end, or a missing trinket that in inexplicabl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1201526/ The streets are crowdedas people pass.All smiles- all love.Do they have no shame?No consideration, for the people alone?Watching with bitterness and longing?I suppose I was like that to.I wonder, if someone looked on mewith the same green eyes, of jealousy. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1199934/ A haven for the anti-social,a place for thought and knowledge,where no one take my views as odd,but instead, deep in thoughts of their own,they nod.Where books are treated kindlyand no knowledge or thought,is turned away.A place where all minds come together,in a thought provoking way. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1199924/ Seeing a mother cry for her lost child, seeing another friend buried in the groundWalking on the street ,seeing people with a needle held to their vein.Still the world turns,same old questions, same old story calling God into question.How can I believe?How do I go on,without the ignorance,the horrib.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1197778/ There's a quote, by some man I can no longer recall and that quote is, "Hating someone, is like burning down your house to kill a rat." That could not be more true. I spend my life thinking and obsessing over resentments and whether or not people like me. It took me years to truly understand this qu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1195123/ Do not take my quiet demenor,as a symbol of what I know. Do not take my politeness,for not having opinions of my own. Do not take my blissful stare,as ignorance, or lack of care. ...I am only looking at the beauty. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1194704/ A love, boarding on the edge of unhealthy,isn't that what this is? In and out of the relationship,In and out of anger,In and out of...well....  But always in love. There's arguements, disagreements,not always handled right.On either side. So much history,good an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1194679/ I am tired. Tired of holding my head high,of being polite.How my head goes round and roundnever truly finding a place to stay. I've always loved analogies,of how others can always seem to relate,get the picture from a phrase that was once so dim. So here's one, of how I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1194673/ There was a time I loved myselfand death was far from mind.Then I saw the worldand suicide idiation because a pass time.At some point I crossed a lineand thoughts of suicide became a solution.I became full, but not insideand became of the homicidal kind.Now I've passed even that, to the worst. A hat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1183976/ I've been saying that I'm broken.Beyond repair, that nobody caresBut the truth is, I don't care.Not enough to do what I need to dotell the truth.THere's just so much work and I'm just so scaredI've seen people broken, beyond repair.Brains so fried- ruined lives.Reduced to nothing, the animal in them.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1160893/ I feel my insides tugging.Someone has to lose.I feel my insides burning.I have to decide who.A timeless story,of a heart betrothed and a heart in love.The gun is in my handpoised at either man.The gun in patient, in my hand,out for blood, I know.A timeless story,of who is realand who is fake.Thought.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1144848/ I was never this uncertain of what i wanted to do.when i was in love, in love with you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1136835/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1116626/ I'm walking...always walking in the dream. It's always the same thing; he stands across the street, smiling the goofy grin he always does, half turned to me. He starts to turn fully towards me, doesn't know, doesn't see it coming, neither do I. He takes a step and I turn around giggling smoke throug.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1113675/ The lights have all gone out inside.The legs are weak against the rising tide.The smoke rises and dissipates.All the while the needle sinks in, the ambulance will come too late.The girls fate is already sealedwhen that dope was readily dealed.Condemned from the first time,she did that first, fatal l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1113125/ Dope, oh lovely, dope...Why have you forsaken me?Why have you left me cold and alone,much less then I could be?No one can condone,can no one see,this demon inside,consuming me?What is this lifeI've chosen to lead?What is this addictionI've chosen to feed? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/darkdays/1113122/