http://slow.writerscafe.org/ClintAve The original writings of author Clint A. Avery, M.B. en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775406959 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The booze and the blackoutsbrought on by the bittertaste in my mouthfrom the blood on the lipof every chippedbottle,has made meno Saint,rather a bit morehumanthan I used to be.A great writeronce said that a poetcan never writein peace,and I believe that to be true.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ClintAve/1799253/ I thought she would bethe onewho I would wait up forlike the rising of the sun,but now I feel something else besidestime moving,like the moon and the tides. This love has always beena four letter wordI could never giveaction to like a verb,even when I believedI felt it at.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ClintAve/1799245/ I was just another kid gettin beat up in the schoolyard/teachers didnt wanna deal with the bullies, it must have been too hard/ to control them in the classroom on recess and lunch hour/ so when I had the chance I listened to hip-hop to get my power/ to fight back against these bad kids with my word.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ClintAve/1798688/ I woke up with a fading memoryof how she used to look like the sun and  the sea.and there were days when we would walk for hours along the edge of what could be.There was sand and saltstuck between the strands of her hair,the hot rocks beneath her feetand the song of our love in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ClintAve/1798685/ I've struggled with her shadowevery night for two years.I keep my blanketwrapped tightly around my chestbefore I fall asleep,as if I was trying to find safety in my own confinement;afflicted with anger.I amwhat time and circumstancehas made me;a hardened soultrying.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ClintAve/1798678/ When I was five years old I walked behind my parents kicking a tin can, thinking to myself "this is freedom, no mom or dad to hold my hand, no curfew, no rules,just me and my imaginary grenadethat could explode any minute". It was a game of laughter and danger.Hearing.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ClintAve/1798669/ We all construct our own path through life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ClintAve/1798665/ Getting by with what you got. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ClintAve/1798663/