http://slow.writerscafe.org/DecadentDementia The original writings of author Typhoid Kelsey en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776007172 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 What did I do? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/439132/ Addressed to my younger brother. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/409433/ I retch and,convulse and heaveDirty tile floor, clinging to porcelain-I'm so tired, I can't keep doing this-a shell that in any other time would leave me dead.There's a capsule of blades from what I used to loveand a pillow that occupies my hours should be enough, just for tonight.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/403999/ I hear dogma echoing through my houseideals from people who are terribly blind or very strong-I am small and see too much.I listen to the same ol', same ol' as I have the last seven yearsfeeling my legs split as I try to escape it, running from audible torture and tryingtrying not to let t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/396271/ My paintbrushes are all nubs now-rubbed away like tinder-twigs dipped in invisible inkfor messages in bottles and secret codes screaming what's too improper to sayfor blind gluttons and plates too full-greased smut stacked too high to see me trying to catch your eyeand I don't believe in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/394900/ After traumatized by watching the evening news, young Olive learns she cries dimes. Her father sells her out for a good cause--to save the world by making her miserable. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/391205/ Frail and sickly spindle-wristsnot terminal but still legitand prone to shaky tremble fitsshe'd try to sleepbut never deepit seems her brain has splitand daily, farther awayand longer her staysof cemetery shiftssleeping between little riftswaiting to be become one of the mists. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/389574/ I don't remember writing this because it was written on no sleep in the dark in a manic phase so make of it what you will. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/380015/ I don't find the idea of God difficult to believe,I just find his methods confusing. IFSuicide is such a sin-IFYour body is a temple-IFWe can overcome all trials we are given- THEN WHYAre some of us genetically wired to kill ourselves?THEN WHYIs self-mutilation is.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/348059/ I saw your face todayOn someone else's bodydisproportionate to yours.It was strange to see you thereeven if it wasn't really youeven if you aren't really gone. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/347997/ "A pregnant human that has been sired during or immediately before childbirth when an undead offspring is sired..." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/347995/ A twist on the version I was told growing up... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/347979/ I'm sorry you've been thrust into a world of no explanation so quickly. I've little time, so I shall inform you of the basics: Lanky, mangy, rank-flea ridden, parasite furred-tinted rusty green by moldor almost bleached. The stench arrives before it does-and it's just one o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/346023/ Trying to organize and remember all this stuff... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/346003/ We learned about witchcraft in my anthropology class-it's not the craft itself-it's the malcontent behind it. What if someone took up witchcraft to get revenge on the innocents killed in the Salem Witch Trials? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/345994/ Myth.My power over man, on occasion, is fleshed outonce in a while, made manifest and whole-what was thought, idea, interpretation, dreamt crawling out of a wet womb.I was words but I purge them now for skin and marvel at the additions to my blackness-I was nightmares; a old man doing what.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/345977/ When did you realize a tool of murder made you comfortable? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/345589/ I breatheI breathe in regretDrowning in my shameScraping out my throatLooking for air in my veinsA burning self-hateMyself, I'm up againstMyself, I'm my own worst enemy I breatheI breathe out trickletWaters come from my mouthExhale with no thoughtMy body the condu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/340530/ I once lived in a better placemade out of candies and sticky things,sparkling sugar strings and little jellybeans,and picking tasty flowersI once lived in a better placeChocolate flakes and soft fruit chewiesflavored crystals and things so gooeyand kissing them for hoursI once lived .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/337149/ I blink.I should be tired.But my mind is still awake.Figment, philosophize.Review and plan the day.Racing and fleeting thoughts.A sign I'm insane.I stare and memorizethe things of no importance.I think,I can't think.I cannot look away. Living without-Leaving me-See.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/336435/ My friend is leaving for the army. I try to understand it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/336434/ My friend is leaving for the army. I try to understand it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/336429/ My friend is leaving for the military. I try to understand it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/336427/ In my head, in my head. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/306276/ Mature only because it deals with self-mutilation, but not in graphic detail. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/303261/ An example of the consequences of my imagination that occured when I was a kidlet. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/293839/ If you have the option, don't do a job you hate. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/293835/ I woke up in the middle of the night having a panic attack for the first time in years. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/288904/ A friend and I decided to make a "band" called Bicycle Vikings. This would be the first "single." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/276783/ Isn't it terrible how the people that are supposed to be close to you ruin your life as they ruin themselves? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/271958/ We have white robes for graduation and I really don't like them. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/271431/ Graduation's coming and I'm pretty sure I'll trip in our horrible robes. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/271430/ I'm graduating high school in a couple days. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/271426/ Have you ever realized while in the midst of a crowd how very alone we really are?I observed as bubbling tumult brewed through the halls of my high school-Senior Ball!-Oh, who are you going with? Who should I ask? I'm so nervous!I shrugged most of the time and made some general correct answer .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/266681/ If I were to quit these mannerismsawkwardly display how very sick I am,inside and out-would you quit these mannerismsand acknowledge the suffering?I deem it rude for me to drop such hints,that I'm so tried and tired and quietly dying in the corner-however, since it often seems that you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/266666/ I had pneumonia again. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/263937/ Dream I had of zombie-things eating me alive. Rated mature just because being eaten alive is slightly unpleasant for most people. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/247939/ Fear of being infested by worms. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/246950/ The countdown beginsticking down secondstacking up daysto a blank-faced crowd of clock facesstaring me downmaking me madwith imminent print-offs of to-come races I'm lateI'm lateFor a very importantDates are crossed off and what has been has beenWhat I cannot change I co.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/242967/ Poem about Leonarda Cianciulli, also known as the "Soap-Maker of Corregio." After a tragic life, she killed three women and turned them into soap and tea-cakes. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/239189/ Do I think it's worthlessDo I think there's nothing you can doShameful little somethingTurning me to nothingWhy do I carvein my arms like something's buried underWhy do I speakleaving me without an explanation Do I think it's hopelessDo I wish you'd look at me in the same wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/229054/ It hit me not so suddenly-I was just a little kidI'm just supposed to cry from scrapes and stingsWondering why my brain was filledto the brim with such unnatural things Don't try to fool yourselfThere's something all too wrong with thisDon't try to prove yourselfWill someone exp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/228050/ I'm sorry you had to see this side of meit's gone and replaced my faceI've seen you staring at what I've done, honeyIf I am to be a black sheep,should I pull the wool over your eyesLeave you blindLeave you bethe splits in my wrists only ticking off timescratching off days in a downwa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DecadentDementia/228045/