http://slow.writerscafe.org/kitschyprincess The original writings of author s en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776040057 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Borderline desperation lead to rose-petals soaked in the hard water of the south,As this rose moves out to sea, so true love will come to me,Flaky catholicism quickly overpowered by a need for desire,Roses dissolving to nothingness and in the nothingness there is proclivityIn the proclivity there is.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2766511/ The boiler room slowly turns anestrus Heavy pings fade to black Menthol filters- the only filters left envelop meAnd haunt me for years to comeJokes and pills and funghi infused tea and plant food Haunt a liver that waits for a recoveryFilled with merlot, laced with nero de avolo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2765415/ There is nothing artistic about the thin plastic water bottle filled with moonshineThere is nothing poetic about the blood-red cheeks of a shadowy woman plump with a recklessness that simply cannot dieThere is - and i cannot stress this enough- nothing romantic about failing at entry-level jobs to s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2761946/ For thirteen fleeting years I have been governed by a shadowy creature that eats me from the inside out- though somehow leaving me fleshy.Kneeling down, clutching porcelain, blood-splatted-massacre below, porcelain teeth in my skull, a heart that's always beating through my eyes and my ears.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2759571/ six months - no - nine months deepin a tempestuous isolation matched only by the underground manthe first stanza saw me drown and suffocate in a sickly digital love that did not feel like my own- tired eyes rolled back,my aching jaw cracked -only to reject the affectation craved in years.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2759570/ the fact that not everyone drinks to get completely out of their skin is nonsensical to me...half a year with my nerves endings slowly being wrapped back up in their fleshy nude shellAnd it doesn't feel like the personal Hellthat i was awaitingThings begin againand my mind, twitching, pr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2170167/ first draft. i have not written in months, please go easy on me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2158666/ it takes all of power i hold in my dumb weak body not to justsharply remove the sepia tinted shades i have been living under for yearsIn order to take in the grotesque multicolour in all it’s loud embrace.i think i am a modern day ludditetechnology has gone too far, too much too fast, too imme.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2147798/ life is like a pipe im a tiny penny rolling back the walls inside http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2108588/  i would love to know why it is made to seem so peacefulbeing only with oneselfwhen as soon as I know it is just me and That in the skyi get tired and apprehensive ,looking for drunkenness, or any kind of inhebriation i wish more than anything i could the desire o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2097404/ Nothing up until then had felt as empty as waking up to thestale yellow wallsThat I knew for a fact had been there 22 years beforeThe small jump from maternity to poisonsPale flickering memories of disappointed, crying facesvisiting me,Watching one more, predictable downfallT.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2090724/ short contemplation on emotional recovery & therapy, conjured up quickly in a snowy, cold cigarette break http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2013218/ I felt for one second like I could be my own GodThe next a burning, deep, intense craving forNot death but blackness,Not eternal blackness but a breakFrom a horrible, diseased, black and white brain, Starved for attention and romantic love. Confused, ashamed, drunk o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/2000463/ this black and white brain has weighed me down,weighed downwith flickering memories of the painfully happy, the deeply sadthe same cycles and patterns intensify, alwayslove, hate, love, hatethe kind of strange, self-imposed destructionthat left me with none,no, none but o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1999018/ When I throw up, I am erasing the past,little slivers of history slipping away,Everything around me is changing,So I'm stuck, watching movement, fast. Things too quick for me to adapt, I'm really trying to start, Pick up and move on, I was two years ago, the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1870294/ first draft, written following recent events. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1837965/ First draft, reflection a long, lonely, depressive summer. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1819277/ Diary from today, I'm stoned, starving hungry and supposed to be studying. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1776635/ The blotches of green and purple eat away at me,a new imperfection waiting for my numb body to wrap itselfin poison.That same seventeen year old, on new year's day,sheets crisp, hair unkempt,a room so messy it mocks me.Coffee mugs, forgotten ramblings on a page, ash. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1776296/ More often than not I find myself stuckin the kind of laughter that is not far from the screams Of a scared child Because I did not know how to love without becoming a syrup.Sweet, at first, but on second thought,Claggy, sticky, unpleasant and difficult to remov.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1748570/ My kind of stoned thoughts on the afterlife http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1728120/ Broken ghost woman, she died at ten and lives on. "I'm dying, yet still shall I live"I was done searching for myself, bored and tired,Weighed down with stones, I tried the Cathedral, glistening Angels on the doors, tiny little filaments ofsouls in the organ,the wreaths, the p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1712720/ First draft, not yet edited. Taken from one of my journals. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1666361/ I visited Paris for the first, and hopefully not last, time last week. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1628050/ Rememberthat little mirroryou smashed months agotiny filaments ofshiny curses, seven years of bad luck, yet to be cleaned up That's what I was to you, and you to me.Premature worry, the teenaged pain and angst,Swept up with ashes and butts,Thrown away into .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1603435/ I waited, with little patience, to emerge from the fire as a beautiful, beautiful work ofnature,but that is not how I was made.I stayed closed, sealed, shut.  It is hard to know who is Cain and who is Abel, When the human mind is so unreliable,Humanity is unkno.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1588525/ The winter of my life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1558930/ Thinking of doing something with my old journals... by no means finished or how I want it to be. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1551771/ The conflict  betweenthe beautiful and the ugly rages on. And I, as always, am misplaced in the background somewhere. God only knows whereit is I belong. Bright, toy guns threaten me. They laugh. Children threaten me.They laugh, too. Everything threatens me. There are days when.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kitschyprincess/1547434/