http://slow.writerscafe.org/caderoy12 The original writings of author Nearly Blonded en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776216859 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 An uncomfortable clashing of slick palms I, the smitten masochist, find joy in the contact Beating flesh quickens its tempo  Travestying the tune that teems between your temples http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2142778/ how weak am i with my nine lives balanced on my shoulders oh the weight is taking overpray to the pipe and four leaf clovers oh how weak am i bed of broken promises cut my teeth on sheets so many times vinyl records adorn the wall a melody depositpoignant undertones and broken bo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2142211/ possibly will be continued? first lyrics i’ve written in a hot second http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2127648/ my curls are engulfed in flames embers fall to my earlobes and scorch the hoops that have become my uniform my consciousness reason of my rage and fuel of my fears no support for my leaning wavering am i not even in my figure no hips to hold me or to be held defective mixed girl .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2127055/ put up my hair, lay down my curly edges i contemplate existence over cups with lemon wedges my mind is just my enemy, facetious, stays my weakness like them lightskin girls with curls and freckles forming on brown beaches http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2120083/ it's saturday and i'm wearing my sunday's best pearls of perspiration adorn my collarbone earth tones smeared against my yellow skin imagining your color against a bleak backdrop summoning sound in my silent movie i'm all dressed up with nowhere to go my calls are not r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2118674/ crooked lines on bent wrists stemming from a contorted crucifix bathing our tanned skin in poisoned holy water indoctrinate the blue boys with their indigo lips wishing to sip the nectar of God milk and honey colored flesh turns crimson in the witching hour scrapes and .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2117294/ there’s cake on my face my lips are how you like your coffee  his hands are where you like themyour grins spite me God and his peers of perished souls jeer and giggle the pawn and the jester am I my heels crunch the kernels beneath my calloused feet chasing for far too long with no barrie.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2116829/ half past 7 petrichor: the only discernible element intangible yet the only thing i can grasp fictional beings inside my television the only thing non-static in a room colored noir my hair all a mess, knotted from split ends to roots stemming from godforsaken .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/caderoy12/2116733/