http://slow.writerscafe.org/JR62 The original writings of author John Ryan en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775973796 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 People are always at their worst in airports. It’s a distilled version of humanity, squeezed into narrow gates and endless lines. I’m sitting in a faux-leather chair in the airport lounge, staring at a laminated table, the kind that wipes clean but always feels sticky. The airport's caco.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/2892939/ The sun hadn't yet risen when John Wheeler's alarm clock buzzed softly, stirring him from a deep sleep. He rolled over, groggy but accustomed to the early hour. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, a comforting, familiar aroma that brought a faint smile to his lips. His home ro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/2892938/ Book 1 of Rythm of Ruin http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/2892937/ In the city's neon glow, secrets buried deep,Whispers of rebellion stir where shadows creep.Blissful smiles hide memories erased,In a world of control, truth is misplaced.The city was never truly silent, even in the dead of night. It thrummed with a low, omnipresent hum, a blend of distant machinery.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/2892935/ They say you die three times, First when the body dies, Second, when your body enters the grave, And third, when your name is spoken for the last time.The wind at the top of the tower was biting, as sharp as the divisions it overlooked. From where Anton Krilli stood, each flicker telling a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/2892934/ Book 1 of The Bliss Chronicles. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/2892933/ You can have them back The butterflies wings you've clippedon the night stand next to the razor blades and NeedlesThose Black cherry candles flickering the shadow of slip of smoke dancing towards the ceiling where you are staring wondering if I'm staring at my ceiling t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/1710446/ The Cracks in the ceiling are filled with dripping water.The shadow of a man is only as big as those around him.the little dead moth lays at the boy's useless feet like a point for a pin to spin on,and he makes an inverted pin, the point magnetized to the moon.He wishes, yet cant go to th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/1452021/ In a Bar.Alone.Drinking cheap whiskey in some Godforsaken Condemned Bar in the backwoods of no where.Alone.In a Filthy suit with 5 o`clock shadow at 10 o`clock at night.Trying to get drunk again to get the images out of my head.Another homicide bullet shells smell of old blood and the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/1379663/ This once lost poem is about a homeless man I met long ago when I went to New Orleans. I wrote it years ago, and tucked it away. Until now. Enjoy. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/1334287/ A teenager with schizophrenia talking about his high school, and the scottish play. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/1322676/ Stupid. Freak. Punk. Loser. Gay. Dumb A*s. Retard.These words reverberate in my head while drudging home after another normal day at school.F****t. Idiot. Alone.My Mom`s "New School, New You" plan didn't work as I told her a million times.But of course she didn't listen.No o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/JR62/1317463/