http://slow.writerscafe.org/Wasteofpaint666 The original writings of author Wasteofpaint666 en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776083395 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I’m tired of everyone thinking they’ve got aProblem. F**k that s**t, you know? F**k theSober days, starting at zero, trying to makeSomething respectable out of your mistakesBecause yeah, everyone knows you fuckedUp big time, man. They can see the dirt onYour knees from tripping so many t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1668619/ When we fell into bed soaking wet from theShower and stayed until we were dry. WhenWe hid with the lights out and watched policeCars cruise by, flashing neon.When we whispered secrets into winter airAnd the sunset followed us home. When weTook turns trading sips and songs and wokeUp afraid to get ou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1668618/ Loving me is fine art, acquired taste,Lemonade sugar packets, gasolineOn your tongue before you suck a lit matchIt takes like bitten fingers, someone else’sHands wrapped around your throat Until you forget to breathe butIt’s okay, I didn’t remember before, anywayMom always lov.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1668617/ it’s a very strange moment to realize you were not drying up for good but you might’ve just been a cactus all alongand you were sixteen when your creative writing teacher asked what plant you’d beif you were a plantand you said you’d be a ginkgo tree because the only thing pe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666431/ I miss youI miss you so much I start drinking too much againIn hopes that it will drown what you left unfinished and untouchedOnce I figure that missing you is an inescapable fateI start chain smoking againNot ever wanting a breath, or look, of fresh air in the foreseen futureWith the thought that m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666430/ You’ll love a girl who is less like the apocalypse and more like a star field, less slaughterhouse and more home. When she touches you everything in this world will hold its breath with you, her mouth seeping like a bloody sunset into your skin. You’ll love a girl who knows refrain, who .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666429/ You think nothing can compare to his hands,that in a few decades you’ll still wish for the time he drove you home at dusk,one hand on the steering wheel,one on your knee.When you can’t sleep, remember that the moon is more of an insomniacthan you and she is doing just fine.You .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666057/ I haven’t properly articulated what I’m terrified of, but I’m terrified that I’m going to spend my entire life terrified of things that may not happen. Which is to say I’m terrified there will never be someone who runs their fingers over my arm like they are checking fo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666056/ Would you take back an ex?Would you watch one die?Would you watch one fall in love again(not with you, no, with someone new)And would you call your new lover to drive fastDown the highway to pick you up from the floorBecause you drank champagneSo much damn champagneAnd your bed’s empty and you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666055/ Starting over. Say it.No! Say it like you mean it!I can tell when you are lying. You laugh to punctuate your sentences,but not the good laugh. It’s a laugh you force,a laugh that twists your stomach. So just say it.You are starting over.You are waking up polished. New. You make your bed in the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666052/ Our skin is born anew every week. Seven days. We think nothing of the healing cuts fresh against our pale skin; you think nothing of the faint bruise in the cradle of your elbow, where your veins shuddered beneath syringes and apathy.Our bodies tremble in the presence of our recklessness and in a we.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666051/ This is how it feels to be immortalized beneath someone else’s fingertips. We are setting fire to each other, and we will burn. I will sweat you out like a fever runs through my veins and still ask you to come back �" to remind me, when enough time passes between us, what it is lik.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666050/ When you’re in love all you can think is“I’m in love and it’s madness it’s madness.”When the thrill is over and you’re leftto rebuild the ruins, you begin to see itfor what it really is: just a hit of dopamine,a dose of serotonin. I’m sorry that I mist.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666048/ Crazy. Say that word. Hold it like you hold your breath before I tilt my face away from yours and push my way out of your dented, rumbling truck. Crazy.You see it in the sway of my hips. Crazy. You can feel each syllable crush in your jaw. You grind every word against your teeth as your tires squeal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666046/ The cycle of everything is linear, like the universe spinning in a rhythmic pattern; it’s terrible and still all I know.One day, dust shivers off book spines and I turn to a familiar, dog-eared page just to remember the sting of paper cuts again.It is how I will always love and return to him: .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666045/ How someone comes into your lifeand you have to brace for their impact.They push down hard, harder onthe accelerator and you’re speedingdownhill with grovel in your mouth,and you want to know everything about them, the details of their first kissand how much it hurt whenthey fell off the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666025/ I am too afraid to tell my motherthings are getting bad again. Thereis sadness and it grabs me by the shouldersand shakes me to the core like a magic eight ball. It turns upon my doorstep like a long-lost friendand I know there’s no point fighting it. Sometimes I want to kiss strange.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666023/ This is where it ends and begins: I remember constellations of ink pressed into your shoulderblade, and I trace the shadows and colors with the tips of my fingers like a brush painting you into existence.When you turn over, tentatively training your icy eyes on me, I remember the color �.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666021/ To whoever loves me next,I’m sorry if I’m afraid of youor if days of flirting turn toradio silence, without warning.I’m sorry if I make you say the wordsover and over and over until I believe them.(I’m sorry if I don’t believe them.)I will probably spend more timeworryi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666017/ The truth hurts.Not like a bullet, But like a thousand razor blades Tracing the veins on my eyelids.Like tiny blue eyes that should be ours.Like fireworks next doorWhen you’re sad home alone.Like vomiting up your memories after Drinking to forget.Like veins made of poison,Like e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666016/ Alone in the bed of someone you love,You can hear their mother’s footsteps upstairs.Breakfast. Smells like burning. She’s singing.Light streaks in from a tiny basement window.The linoleum floor is sad and wet with august rain.You are sitting at the edge of a push pin.You have been woven .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666015/ things I am still learning:if someone misses you, they’ll find excuses to call you; not excuses as to why they couldn’t.do not check up on people who are toxic to you. it doesn’t matter how they’re doing. don’t let their flames burn you long after you’ve put them .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666012/ You bought a leather jacket yesterday.I cannot afford to imagine you pulling it over my shoulders,but I did, and it’s stupid becauseI cannot allow myself to think ofkissing the savageness out of you,pulling the splinters out of your skinone by one. Who taught you to hardeninto indifferenc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666011/ 1. i still keep your secrets with me.every single one. those that made your words lose its voice,those that left your hands shakingas you tried to catch them right after theyfell out of your mouth in the middle of the night.i have kept them all.safe. inside of me.2. you were the first person&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1666010/ some mornings I wake up i can reach my arms out to the sunand the first thing I sigh is your namefold back the sheets, straighten the pillowstuck you away in the back of my mindworking with my handswriting down my wants or worriesit’s never been so easy on days like these, you’.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665996/ How silly to compare herto hurricanesto thunderstormsto temporary cliche swirls of emotion.She is concrete. She is permanent.She is brave with her wordsand slick with her heart.There is concentration dripping from her poresand love sticking to her bones.She is a lifetime of goodmornings.She is .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665994/ I want you because I’d break off pieces of sky for you, because I want to believe water can run thicker than blood, because your tongue burns the roof of my mouth. I want your fingers in my hair, your mouth on my neck, to know that yes, I have survived everything leading up.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665993/ To hold your body like a tickingclock.  To break your handsapart every hourfor a lover who willonly hold you against theirwrists in shadows,stop giving.  Stopforgiving those whohave never apologized, then naming them Almost,then blaming yourself.To give your open palmslike barcodes.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665980/ i am very physically sensitive toward people’s presences. there’s this beautiful quote by marya hornbacher “i did not like to be touched because i craved it too much. i wanted to be held very tight so I would not break.” this quote resonates with me like a second skin. some d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665979/ It still fascinates me how people leave, how we expect it,how quickly we clean the houses empty and hide ghostsunder our fingernails. How names become namesbut without the burning. How the poems don’t hurt anymore.What I am saying is the songs that remind me of youprobably remind you of someon.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665978/ You’re asking me what I want for breakfast and I’m telling youabout how when the worst thing happened, I didn’t even cry.You’re handing me a receipt from the laundromat down the streetand I’m passing you a bundle of letters that I wrote to God whenI was fourteen and sca.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665971/ You think nothing can compare to his hands,that in a few decades you’ll still wish for the time he drove you home at dusk,one hand on the steering wheel,one on your knee.When you can’t sleep, remember that the moon is more of an insomniacthan you and she is doing just fine.You .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665970/ Do you remember the images from the poems I wrote? The way I was a deer, and you were the moon, the candy peaches, the mango strips? The way the light was�"not angry or loving, but just there? Because all i want is to stay with you in this schroedinger’s cat relationship until the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665967/ If the sky were a girl she would be a striking one �"lips like miniature clouds, hands able toshape hurricanes. Together you swim in neon pools,the moon a lump of charcoal in comparisonto her mouth. You kiss her and your tongue suddenly livesup to its title as the strongest muscle in the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665965/ Loves comes to visit, rings the bell five times,hair drenched from night-rain. She’s dancing and singing something softand out of tune. It’s 2 am but I let her in because she’s incredible. Pour her a drink. She knocks it to the back of her throat. Doesn’t .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665964/ i don’t particularly see the point in living in this world unless i’m completely in love with it. in particular i want to be in love with the things we can’t change. we are going to see a whole lot of sky and rain and dusk and blood in our life, why not find a way to be completely .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665963/  I will not write another poemabout your body. How we found it.How it is not your body anymoreand has disappeared into new purpose.There is sorrow, yes.Sometimes I can’t breathe for it.Sometimes it folds up easy;waits until I am readyto consider its weight.I am often ready these days.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665961/ For the sake of poetry,
you told me what you wanted
 to do to me on a bus full of
 people. You pressed your palm 
in between my thighs and kept
 talking while God and forty
 people sat in silence.
I knew it was for the poetry.
Knew you were just s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665960/  
you’re five beers deep at a partyand you’re disappointed and you don’t
know anyone but you’re fine, you’re fine,
you’re not lonely, you’re dancing with your
eyes shut and someone’s hands are tracing
your h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665958/ stay gone, away from the slicedice rink and the drops of blood.do not look back inthe rear vision mirror at the smoke,and go, until the car battery goes flatand the lead leaks blue. run, ignore the bone-crunch of shimmering cobblestonesunder your crimson shoes, your sweatyface like a silver moo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665956/ I wait for you to come home. 
When your keys tinker at the front doorthere’s a fat cherry pursed between my lips, 
back molars alert in anticipation of the crunch.Please ignore the broken egg shells
cracked on the floorboards, the fact that I’m awake at midnight&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665954/ I didn't love him.But I thoroughly enjoyed him. He was heat at the peak of summer,and he kissed like I was his last meal�"And I was looking for a body to drown in.Back then, I had a candy-coated heart,like flowers tucked in the pages of a hymnal,and he had the thick, callo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665950/ I have been justifying us for awhile now, and finally when asked what to say what we are aloud it dawned on me how full of rubbish we are. We like the idea of each other, but could never even begin to think of anything more tangible. This is a trap to be in with a heart like mine. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665949/ My cigarette is talking back more than you,So I chain smoke and choke on what I think you want to say,I said I'd quit but the nausea in my heart can't be any more steady than a rocking chair on a porch in a storm,"Love me," I said, and you stared right back.And you say it but I don't believe youthe .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665947/ "I miss you, I made a huge mistake. I think about you all the time"Always from the wrong people at the wrong times.Come to the realization that you are the "lonely at best" girl.They talk about the futureThey compliment your eyes and sarcasmThey lie about the music they know/likeThey buy you a drink.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665944/ Why do I keep trying to turn my body into poetry?Why do I need to have stardust in my bones,and galaxies in my eyes,rivers and oceans,running through my veins?Why do I need flowers on the graves dof butterflies in my chest?Why is my own flesh not enough,my own blood?Why do I not cherish how it keeps.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665943/ I have built mazes around and around myself to keep people always afar and never too nearTesting and quizzing any suitors that cross my wayAll got lost and went a little madDespite all of the warnings and signs saying "turn back"Then you came alongAsking all the right questionsKissing all the right .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665942/ These daysit seemsthat my attemptsat writingoccur during boutsof sleeplessnessor crapulence,when the mindis delusionaland the bodyis exhausted,when the heartis heavyand the bottleis lighterthan it wastwo hours ago.Writing has becomea chore of sorts.No longera giftno longera hobbybut morea boret.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665938/ I’m with you for hoursAstounded but dumbWhile you sit there waitingCold making you numbYou’re freezing and shiveringBut my arms are at my sidesTerrified of rejectionMy love for you hidesYou’re radiant and beautifulI’m scared of screwing upAdvance to you in horrorI feel like t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665937/ Heaven isn’t good enoughPlease settle for my armsThey’re safer than the walls you’ve builtTo keep you safe from harmCause you built them in self interestOut of selfishness and fearBut my arms reach out of loveTo help assure you that I’m hereI don’t mean to criticizeTo h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wasteofpaint666/1665936/