http://slow.writerscafe.org/efwatson The original writings of author e. f. watson en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776211022 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 words mumble in the back of my throat and I get mad when u ask what I saidif you put a microphone down my throat only vibrations would be picked upmoist vibrationseveryone hates the word moist but wants to fuckI associate cigarettes with night time dreaming, staring at faces and schemingmakes it har.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1848043/ He always had a persistent interest in trains.  Were he to search through his memories and place them into distinguishable sections, trains were certain to play a role.  There was childhood in Kansas; every weekend (or few days, he can't be sure the difference of time) his parents would t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1674984/ "You have no Skills!  Let's see you tip-toe!", says a mother to her three year old daughter.Sitting on the cement, reading (and reeking) of depravity, surrounded by spit stains and cigarette butts I overhear this and am humbled by the neurosis of others.  Of mothers, sons, and daughters.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1662188/ the warm embrace of stupid blank thoughts and spastic mathematical rhythm I like myself bestwith my face between your thighsmy judgments off and pleasure on your eyesI feel connected to your movementsand let myself unwindthough these momentsare all fleetingI can still remember every timeAnd though o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1655332/ grew tired of my voicekept missin the beatso I gave upgrew up looking aroundkept missing the pointso I lost the processlayers peel away and without the processThere is no endIn the end there was only the time after the beginning and Now I'm begging for the claims I use to make Loudly and With Pride .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1655322/ I work day in and out opening boxes full of potential knowledgeMy carnal urges dissipate into exchanges that they get more out ofI'd been healthy for years, but still the razors edge of the box cutter will speak to meWords only I can hear and words only id want to hear One day I'll indulge. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1577674/ I'd been working for my mother at her bookshop for the past four years, though at this point I'd only been working daily for the past year, after having graduated from high school without plans.  That's not an entirely true sentiment, however.. I had plans but they mostly consisted of me planti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1565289/ like a cripples mangled arm my mind swings in repetitive and unattractive motionsit takes cringe worthy leaps as it rocks in and out of it's socketI am vile and violent and secretly always full of hatredI only want to fightand think about deathI sleep til I have to move to work, so I can go back to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1512464/ there are secretive inhabitants living in our peripheralsa poignant vision of spectacular grandiosethey chuckle to themselves as our greedy eyes pass over thema monotonous motion that comes with the living quartersthe little b******s are getting impatientI have lived to be 103 and my .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1504517/ the leaves are turning, molting into the soil and disappearingyou can hear the rats in the streets late into the night, the audible imagery of glass being shatteredand the pulsing thrill that comes with ita single bottle, responsible for multiple buzzes,left in hopes of doing-in a cop's tirehop.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1504047/ common law, undeservingtranscribed lawsuits we all know, they're fittingfor the wordwe gospilizedc'mon, later is better learningyearning forthe statue song, the sun is settingand all we knowis all we areThe carpet, on fireand all I lost was hopeIt hardly hurtsand the note you spoke inis le.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1501512/ god was annoyed, that much was truethru the chemicals He left behind I found Him; sitting, rotting, a terrible drunkard with a dirty minda sort of perverse relief washed over me.not because after all this time I was wrong, not because there could now be a tangible afterlife but because I was be.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1501120/ we are all made from chemicalsyou claimed my self obsession was merely trivialand yet here we areI surrender myself to decadency and the obsession of deathblood flowing between the gaps of my teeth, constantly skinned kneesI say I'm in between adventures nowbut really I'm between ingesting.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1501017/ rustic carpets frayed at the edgeslong shadows cast by the dimly lit lamps, the bulbs having miraculously lasted the past five yearsnot as a measure of conservation, they were never usedour living room was always a formality, a humble ruse it all seemed surreal, standing by the telephone hutcht.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1490274/ slipping thru my finger tipsa correlated pool of apathycoagulating in my mindsenses are all numbingstuck trying to rewindsearching for answers,they aren't coming,for the first time,finding myself Fearing the divine http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1488331/ this world these people this society these timesAn honest version of the world includes acceptance of despair, and the begrudging acceptancethat there is no uniting moral humanityBut in this world there is good, there is constant beauty held up in a web of perspectives,supported universally by the r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1478597/ I tried achieving sustenance by alienating myself with substancesin the end I want to believe, and I'm closer to nothingbut I laugh easier, at myself, at the world, at my friends, anything..with humor like a crutch nothing will seem as deadly leading the kind of life that seamlessly will pull togeth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1474985/ been chasing my bad habits with positive thinkingstill I go to bed, hoping to wake up dreaming http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1466465/ well this isn't poetryI am venting.  I am at work.I am scared of my brain and am legitimately curious if anyone else feels this waylike it could turn off my whole system and I wouldn't realize it, and without a system I'd obviously be deadI'm certain everything I'm feeling is common, but I migh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1466457/ tread softly my child, my creation of youan imperfect circle,we're gonna need more glueredundant and contrary my points are becoming mootspinning in circlesfocused, I know what to dobut my vision blurs as the knots tighteninternal string made of interchangeable depressionI get hungry, I huff the glu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1466430/ I lost myself for a second in the ceaseless human hum of the crowd, every body going different ways, their belongings clutched to their sides as they hurried off to their flights.  To look at the terminal's signs and see English as a secondary visual option brought me back to my own dilute.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1446587/ empty spaces, faceless and filled with anguish fluttering hearts driving by abandoned mall parking lotsPaul's chewin on the edge of his button upsittin in the backseatIn his mind his gun is cocked, the snow is falling and is mind is amok whisky-throated and full of griefhis confidence.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1446340/ your life has a buttonalways can turn it offthe human switch existsburied in our mental chasms but enlightenment is comingtil then we run into walls blaming our bloody noses on those who let us fall finagling our conscious to fit different schemes I am rooted nowherelife is but a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1445261/ our bodies are heavenly easelson which we paint storiesscars act like wormholes to other timeseventually we all realize the deepest scar we haveits edges fade, leaving an always present centerdark rings ebbing way to darker ringsbringing pain to the fore-front only when brushed against it will .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1438572/ I caught onto the jokethe chemicals were mocking me for doubting their transparencyI've already got all I needabsurd thoughtsme myself and I funny how and by funny I mean sadhumans create concepts and objects to allow themselves emotion drugs to escape ambition and create lovecam.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1438556/ there is an air of uncertainty surrounding me these daysmy mind pre-occupies itself and I tire of my own company entertaining all sorts of thoughtmy dreams are back at nightI thought I'd done enough damage to prevent thatmy veins pulsate with old ideasa dungeon in my mind a physical p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1438498/ Befriended by martyrsSons of the preacher manDaddy's a faggotAin't no surprise (look at me) I'm already born of sin, in yr father's eyesSam I am Sam I'm notYou said I'd be like Ginsbergwith that lineI feel like a fraud Ginsberg I am him I'm notPersistently present is my internal gut rotSon of an acc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1434715/ My gaze is soft as I look at their faces, empathy like mascara encompassing my eyesFoundation covers the blemishes that make them sheepishly acheThat men find this attractive seems uncertainAs I recall yr raw face, beautiful & misplaced in this dayand ageI liken it to myself, hiding in wolves cl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1434683/ I look over the treeline of this townStanding upon a hill of excess suburban rubbleIt all seems so small.I always knew it was, but from this perspective, simply microscopic Why is it so hard to leave your walls?The last six months I have watched the hue change, now entering a cathartic per.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1430886/ when will the cancer set inwhen will my life beginbouncing off walls established by my kin i feel my mind continue to dimthere are water-ducts in my mindelevating what i see fitand recycling what i cannot gripstuck under the floorboardsi get cozy and grapple with what i once saw to be the absur.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1421457/ i sit around the firesideand listen to my friends lierecounting stories i could match to any number of coming-of-age filmsmutually we construct memories on blanket emotionsconsistent with nothingconsisting of nothingbut burnt out experiencetalking tales of four-legged drunken escapadesearl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1418389/ i fear for my brain chemistryi have held enemies much to intimatelyand surely that changes thingsthe fool doesn't know what he wantsslip out one knot in yr brain and there is no difference between highs and lowslike a virgin losing a childi experience loss before i have any right to claim ownershipt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1416621/ david and i http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1416384/ a mind is a terrible thing to losea mind is a terrible thing to use our minds choose words at their own accordthe decision rooted and layers spread thickand yet without them we can still bear witnessto calcifying organs under the floorboardscoercing my skin to crawl in a familiar patterna movem.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1415373/ Stepping away from my consciousness I try to substitute A character in my mind that which controls what I do Perhaps to imagine a greater swaying King, I can grasp absolutes with dignity The talks on the roof were all a rouseActing like scholars we held cyclical sessionsReminiscing of cynical adoles.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1415340/ My coping mechanisms are askew The battles fought are far and fewI'm waiting for the feeling of knowing what to do and it's true that you're leavingPunched a wall split my knuckleI can anticipate your rebuttalAccept possibility before it excepts youNever knew how but we created a plac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1412655/ I'm guilty of loving pointlesslyI have found pleasure in blatant transparencyAnd all for what I can't be sureBut hopefully through out it all all I've conjured more Inside of me; I can't be certain if anythings been achievedOr if I've been thrashing out desperatelyBut if anything is to be sureI.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1409800/ absolute nonsense ya http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1409656/ When I can, I say the wrong thingTo break down boundaries I didn't respect from the first dayIt's a fun little game, to play with your brainPerhaps to be vague is to get your own wayTo say I'm a plague would be selling yourself shortYou could have cast me away Slammed your front door http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1409599/ Maybe I'm an idiot and I should have been listeningBut I always thought it would all end up differentlySomewhere between a dull dimwit and a cunning linguist I found comfort in my pursuit of senselessnessI fear you caught on, it was never in jestAs I called myself a loser, you looked like you w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1409582/ There's a hole in the hull What a horrible thing to know The Skipper told true the terrible truthThe Captain said it certainly must be a ruseThe Skipper was a cynic, a metaphysical twitWhat we said he could swear to be utter bullshitAnd yet as we climbed, the ladder we had to yet to findThe truth to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1408781/ When you hold me I feel hellI've always been told misery suits me wellI wear it on my face, omnipresent but always awakeConscious or not I stream my thoughts, into situations I never thought to concoctI'm a simpleton at heart, a disappointment to those equipped to deal with farceFar-sighted and over.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1408767/ I will divulge my participation in habitual indulgenceDepraved decadency that dances behind retinas of veiny eyed drunkardsPrecipitation caught beneath the surface of their skin, a terrible symbol of what we all keep withinPerhaps acceptance isn't defeat, the dualities of old find their wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1408757/ Women look very similar in the darkNaked with their judgments offAnd yet always the same shockI welcome another ghost into my lifeAnother to disappoint with my eyesThe b******s always give me away"Do you hate me" they ask almost every dayAnd it makes me start to decayAs I relay this drunken rantI re.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1408722/ My creative process is a relapseFragmented memory and imageryAll built up in hopes to portraySomething I can ultimately never properly conveyI have my father's handwriting and my mother's neurotic mindAs I continue to spill beer on the carpet of my mindI feel better with timeBut at the end of the li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1408721/ I dream irregularlyLast night a small mischievous man pursued meI felt an all consuming fear I hadn't knownIt soon went out the windowMy mother woke me in cold sweatI hid my face and she said come see the moonI could hear her climb the stairs as I awokeCrawling to the bathroom I emptied my bladder t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1408720/ Chasing highs and lowsPursuing ceaseless proseAlong a road we never knowBut always pretend toOur fingers begin to stickto the ends of our cigarettesAnd I will surely leave youI fear my shadownot the negative space it createsBut the implicationof undeserving dimension it grants meSurely you understan.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/efwatson/1408719/