http://slow.writerscafe.org/benfrigeri The original writings of author Ben F en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776339107 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The wooden chair hurtsand is most likely only there because it matchesthe table atop of which lies my drinkbecause of which I am extraordinarily drunkand as a result of which I will most likely vomit;but beforemy head fallsand  my guts wrench&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/benfrigeri/1605081/ how low could the clouds getbefore they open up our headsand show us a map to heaven?i can see jupiter in the starsand light in your eyesthat speaks volumesof what I already know;that the milky way has our names written in ittogethersomewherein a far off place.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/benfrigeri/1605080/ Rob me of my youthand coat my blood with porcelain diamondstoo thick to shatter;ravage my mind with despairing thoughts that only age my skin and dull my mind with everywaking second living and  dyingtogetherin one breathin a purgatoryin ourse.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/benfrigeri/1605079/ Wake me up when the sun sets,The night is ours.Dancing moons and laughing stars Are our friendsand the owls sing the songsof our youth,The bitter melancholy of past transgressionsAnd the sweet melody of the present warmth.Fill me with life and suck it dryWith your quiet tranceOnly for.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/benfrigeri/1528074/ You're in love with a beautiful girl of porcelain skin and and cunning womanly intelligence. And it's sabotage what you're doing because you look in her chest cavity to see her heart. But about the skull housing her brain? Still boyishly destructive not to give observation and love to those little b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/benfrigeri/1514190/ Silence, but the loud type;The type where our thoughtsintertwined and transformed;The type where our slow breathsBecame a chorusIn unison with the ever beating pulseOf our hearts.Though our silence was perpetual;The type of perpetual that seemed to Remain prevalent through eternity;The type that con.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/benfrigeri/1438314/ My ears quake as boys and girls Of all shades and hues romp the halls,Their lips painting portraits of marijuana green, Fueled by the red brush of a flame. There’s a loudness to their mutterings of the Solemn words:“Late Last Night”.But mutters shouldn’t b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/benfrigeri/1437747/