http://slow.writerscafe.org/BlueZan The original writings of author BlueZan en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776055802 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The alley is too dark butI walk through it, anyways.The bath scalds my skin butI sit in it, anyways.Both serve as reminders that I'm stillAlive when I've awoken from yet another dream whereI'm watching my own funeral from inside my casket orWhen I can't explain why I feel mostAttract.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1710307/ My body is not frail butif you touch me the wrong way,I still might break into the shapesof letters written in braille.Only sharper.My body is braille and youcan only read me with your fingertipsbutI really don't like to be touched.The old cracks in my ribs would spellwords that you'd hate to repeat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1601538/ When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a princess.I thought it was an occupation I could maintain withmy daddy's greasy hand prints on my sides and hair so unruly,it couldn't be combed, just tousled by the uncles, my grandfather telling me  "get out of the garage, you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1585131/ You'll never believe this.And probably, you shouldn't.But you're going to want to andthat's what it's all about.A sensual illusion, illuminatedby soft moans followedby even louder moans and maybewhen I tell you I'm slapping my own a*s,it's just a belt, against a couch but maybejust maybeI'm actually.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1572799/ Whiskey and wine orbeer and cigarettes, ittakes a substance to write a line.Regret begets regret begetspassion begets whiskey and wine orbeer and cigarettes maybe linesbetween lines, linesunder lines written in ink oncigarette paper to inhale words thatare hard to say out loud andeven harder on my l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1393330/ He used to look over at me and say“Al,” he would say“I am done denying myself the things I want and  that is why you are here.”And I would say to him“I never deny myself the things that I want but  they always end up denying me”andwe would laugh like I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1372340/ Ad Vitam Aut Culpam- Latin for "For life or until fault." Advocatus Diaboli- "Devil's Advocate" Ad perpetuam memoriam- "In perpetual memory" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1364134/ Drinking Bukowski andreading in red wine, ridingin your passenger seat, watchingmy thoughts drift away and disappearwith clouds of smoke outthe open windows.  Theyleave behind nothing but the way theirsmell permeates the air.You tell me you love me in a voice reserved for between the sheet.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1363985/ I am nothing more thana passing phase for those who say they love me.  I leave a bad taste in your mouth likethe way your throat tastes just beforeyou black out or justafter you throw up.I am empowered by my brand of dysfuntionbecause it takes more strength tobe weak and remain alive thanit tak.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1363982/ My cigarette burns between my fingertips.In my ears, the music plays too loud,taking me away from here,from this,from your sick sense of entitlement andthe dangerous way I hate you.The disastrous way you loved me.For some reason you're stuck in my head likea song but I can't remember.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1319206/ Written to be a slam piece http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1319004/ Smoke escapes lips stainedbloody-red with merlot, alongwith lyrics to a song you bothalready know.Without looking into eyes andusing only words, it'seasy to romanticize whatcreates a perfect girl, butwords are easy, wordsflow like merlot makesyou blush.  Wordslie like photos lie, likethe reflec.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1303063/ I do things that would make you hate mebecause if it's all my fault, Ican't hate you.Im wrapped in the kind of smokethat is more addicting than you,my fingers are burning from torch flamewarmer than you ever were.The voices in the musicin my ears are softer than yours,telling me wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1279615/ Listen to that sad song...Itreminds you of yourself, youwatch that strong man cry because his best frienddied from that syrup or somethingsomeone, anyone, everyonedied from that s**t we did justto get high.. At least a little bit.Butthat plot's not high, thatplot won't thicken.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1250171/ Missing piecesmissing smilesmissing elegance and grace. Misinterpreted happinessisn't happiness at alland you took that.. Along with your hands  to touch and your voice  to whisper and your  heart to beat under my palmlike it beats just so I can f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1238159/ Shefeels your fingers under thewaist band of her too-tight,too-short shorts as youpull them off of her violently andtouch her the way she needs you to.Family photos watch you f**k herlike only one other personhas fucked her and she realizes thatshe needs this.  Youare like a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1238110/ Playing with you,you luscious, delicious, gorgeousboy, you. Sordid language crushes her tonguefrom behind her lips,in her throat. She watches you moanfrom below your waist,hands in her hair. Making love to youwith her lips,crushing her tongue with your sord.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237995/ zen lunacy http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237972/ I drink wine, red, like blood and an image pops into my head: you're lying on the floor at my feet bleeding out slowly, agonizingly. You're not speaking but your eyes are begging. I tell you not to bother begging out loud, don't waste the last of your breath on words that won't matter. This image .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237954/ I'm high on pills whileshe hits a glass pipe beside meandhe hits a jointin front of me.Justthe family, making memoriesthat we will never remember.shepasses the pipeandI hit it just toelevate myself even morefromwho I am.Who I've become.Who I've forced him to be.II.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237120/ Itorture myself in your honor, younarcissistic psychopath and don't,for one second, think you're worthliving for you're not worth dying for, youdon't even have coin to paythe ferry-man soI'm still on my own, nomatter what choices I make becauseof the things you've taught me andth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237108/ Two lithium and a cigarette:the recipe for a normal me.Add two olives, shakennot stirred; then I'mshaken, but don't stirdon't assault."Don't shoot!"he slirs, through hiswhiskey-inducedintolerance buthis eyes always dare me.What do you call that?Oh yeah,the smart eye. Hesm.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237103/ Encapsulated redemption,my Pharma-Christ.The rehab Gods forcesanity down my throat likereligion. I chase it with holy waterfrom the blessed paper cups withthe nurse's fingerprints stilllingering just insidethe rim. My hands shake inanticipation of the next doseo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237101/ Your voice is like that hitjust before I've done too much and your silence is quiter thanthe sound of my own heart stopping.  Your cold shoulder freezes morethan the ice bath I wake up in and your name tastes worse thancharcoal shoved down my throat. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237100/ When I close my eyes, I visualizemy soul bleed from my nose and driponto your family portraits. I lick it off and taste metal andemptiness like the barrel of a cocked pistol. When I open them, you'restill standing there with your pantsaround your ankles and that .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BlueZan/1237093/