http://slow.writerscafe.org/filler The original writings of author Everett Dulin en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775974858 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 it isn't a visionmy single foot between a waking voidteetering on the edges and the floors are mjssingwhat a beautiful dream i'm inshimmerings on my fingertipsshattered on any chrome surface the creeping notion that the feint is slippingI don't want to wake up yetI just started l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/3123278/ a hushed drumfrom a room overthe snare replicating dead channel spacesa checkered filter with television static glancespatterned on the wall, its familiar dancing a step and a song, a kick and a falla step in the tickings of flashed steelthere's an opal watch my kuya watcheda certain coloring o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/3122279/ title wip http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2964184/ there's a chemical equation, a cosmic jokeserotonin receptors, where i've been how i'll goi was once a person, now i nod and chokethe lights are on in a vacant hoteli think it's the funniest thing, i laugh and croaka realization of nothing, nothing at allmy brain was blended, my peripherals rolling .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2962535/ the title is a wip http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2961535/ wu bu wei http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2959503/ a ditchscape and berry crushed powderthe days get warmer the snow is violentseeping and dying, not built for the climateits the middle of junethe snow is still so blindingopal eyes and wide eyed silencewaiting for hours permissionthe snow is violent, the asphalt is numbi had prophetic dreams of burn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2957765/ a ditchscapes blinding snow reflectionswith opal irises not built for the climatethe days get warmer the snow is violentcrystal sheets its the middle of junethe snow is still so blindingi used to have prophetic visionshow the world was ending no one listeneda sardonic observation during winters agop.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2957638/ wip http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2956618/ i remember you had a bodyyou had arms and legsbruises under fingernailsi remember i lost my gripand a voicethat grasped through foggy chordsi remember your handsi remember you had wordsmy wired indifference had left us a strangerand processing tones could never make the differencei had a voice once .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2955587/ the fence is chainout of season berry trees grow outsidebombarding the asphalt padleaving little splats of sympathiesthe walls are concretethe floors are concretethe fence is chaini stare at ornate engravingsweathering drops from the acid raincinder blocks and asphaltcathedrals for those with eyes t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2955498/ under butcher cream sole itchand blistered nerve endingsthe path is long, and longer barefootthere's a compromise i had to takei threw away my shoesto get closer to my motherand each rock and glass shardpushed me oh so fartheron mercury gravel pathwaysthe enlightened men sufferin sandals and ripped .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2955290/ i live in contradictionsbetween order and has-beeni bloomed for a secondbefore perennial death kicked in my walking trails turned to buswaysand i watch it the samedeath-paths untrodden again, the foliage breaking pace the destination is different, but im all the same i need to grow a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2954712/ when i walk those stairsdown to hellfire altarsand varnish stripped saintsmy bloodied lips steaming under hot air and crieswhen those tolling bells murmurwith a priest's condemning eulogieson how i will burn eternallyhow i had more to my timebut im going to hellfor taking my lifei hope there is a co.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2953961/ i need controli roll my bedmat in the morningsand unroll it the same every single timehostel bathroom screams, thin wall passengersi'm always out of sight hostel bath night terrorsi've always been afraid of waterand shower heater burn marksi wake up drowning,my saline womb ran cold hostel .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2953821/ comma between, comma beforemy resting lips, chapped and scarredthe second's hesitation, the cracked but that comes nearthe unlearned lesson, that disappointment you fear the moment's gaze, caught on chapped silencemuddied and brazen, anticipations physical forma millisecond break, dreading the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2952721/ A collection about the man who left me and what it made me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2952640/ i wanted it to be youi wanted there to be meaningeverytime i looked at my calloused feetreddened with dead trails, gravel engravings i wanted it to be truethat you were too broken to lead mei thought if i hurt and you hurtthat our papyrus pathings would be complete dad, i wanted there to b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2952632/ on dying early, and identity http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2952116/ ive been in shelters, ive had homes between radio feedbackcaught between fm-am tones there is a roominvigorating, intoxicated withhope for the easy things  i look around rooms drowning in dead stares and motifs with my eyes gripped, lingering on the tv droning am d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2950544/ im working on a title, but i hate busses so this is for now http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2950153/ a collection of poems i've written about my father. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2949914/ there's an heirloom revolverpassed from father to father to sonthe barrel named inheritancei thought i could pass it onfrom vietnam nostalgia, and ideation runsmy grandfather had a coltmy lolo was already gonehe left my chekov's gunmy father stared down its liststhe names, the damages, how it fitsin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2949758/ my dearest sonso little along, too long growncan you understand your moment?sweet child, do you fear growing old?when grey pollution clouds hair-roots and skiesgassed out fog mornings, gripped by saturated hazethose browns and greens along sidewalk patchesbut child, do you focus on the greys?so litt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2949649/ what are we without the words to describe us? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2948840/ hanging http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2948644/ in the pov of my father, about my father, a schizo. i promise its not a joke http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2948183/ 27 years and a bottle of remembrance(this is my moment, i learned to keep it hidden)there was a feeling, and i wrote it with my hands(debted to my failings, who will remember the man)there was a moment and i sold it for my hands(am i another of my sprawling prose rants)27 years, 27 year.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2947627/ 27 years for a bottle of remembranceroll it in a joint, i know you keep it hidden27 years and your talent will sellroll it in a joint, remembrance is a hellwriting remembrance, who will remember the manmy moment came and i sold it for my hands27 years, 27 years(and i sold it for my hands)27 years wr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2947553/ fillerat the alarm, i'm caught adriftthe red light minute, unflinching.in the distancedreaming of a lost old friendi'm in between spacesand placesi have a bus ticketand a destinationbut this moment, currentlyi am at my grandparentsvery soon i leave.My Grandparents.The only consistent, inconsistentpa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2947323/ when nuance is gone, what remains isn’t clarity http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2947107/ when nuance is gone, what remains isn’t clarity. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2947094/ with the nails from my coffinthe blood from my phlegma spruce friend will bear the markof our sapping sobbing slow endill hammer, beat, and screamwith those nails, driving my pleadingafterwards hacking my spewingbloodied patters torn inbeaten in sob-tearsthe wooded and my owntrailing my own oldest p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2946254/ in chains, shuffle rattledown newgate rowto the heads, to lose aheada mother's weeping in townot young, but too youngwith dreams of ballroom dancingwho got caught by the tonguein a single misstep"he's only a child"the trumpets heaving alongdroning, narrating his last ballad in a three step.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2946227/ in chains, shuffle rattledown newgate rowto the heads, to lose aheada mother's weeping in townot young, but too youngwith dreams of ballroom dancingwho got caught by the tonguein a single misstep"he's only a child"the trumpets heaving alongdroning, narrating his last ballad in a three step.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2945850/ we buy our soulwith psilocybin, pcp cigarettesin a futile attemptto know more than the pastors http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2945665/ it was not warwho landed a killing blowour war torn tin soldierfrozen in blanc snownot rubber concrete bombsblasts of confetti shatteringsnot night-terror tremorsof kaleidoscope euphemismspeace did him inhis polyester strip jacket  the waiting in the colda dog and his lost mastera master, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2945654/ the poem is about forced/artificial creativity. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2945557/ let me write what i want to write please and thank you http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2945540/ (space with substance) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2945481/ i really enjoy the philosophy behind the em dash(space with substance) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2945383/ a sick existentialist joke http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2944968/ i turned 20 yesterday,and i want a smokebut congenital decaygrips me by my throatbecause theres a certain rustlebeneath pharynx rooted thistleeach breath ripping, every inhale futileit hurts to smoke, let alone breatheim not half the man im going to bei stray from the doorregrets will be left unborn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2944778/ i reckon that i dont knowwhat could be saidwe're all numb and coldi dont remember where i come fromwhat will my story hold? all of my friendsare lost to dreams and snowand i have my lucid momentsfrom all those years agoits bad when you miss itits worse when you know the overdosed friendson.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2944608/ hello there,                      i hope you didnt forget meits mothers day, thank you for having meeven if it was for just two monthsan odd ten years or socounted lifetimes ago                  .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2944314/ abscess again, and againi flail about, spitting and cryingputrid, rotting, splittingat the base of my spinewith my neural plate birtha repulsive infection formedvile and vapid, slurring and pussingcaking, crystallizing my spine"can you tell me what thats like?"well uh,my joints, um, my muscleslock u.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2944268/ I didn't really like this one, i kept it unposted for a while. im not going to work on it much more though http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2943770/ hear ye! hear ye!all courts and commonersthe king is dead!spoken from the coronerwho saw him splitsawed, wide openfor a hint, a dropof a curious poisonnay, there was not onenor a stab wound, nor a sign ofstruggle, not a touched hair on his headonly an abnormally sized hearta vestige, well less than .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2943704/ on my trek to thebeginning of all beginningsi can sit and whisper withfireflies, campfire bugsaround my humble,one above all, i wallow praiseto the lord, around my campfirebirthed by my hands, one above allmy holy chalice, a lone cooking potwhich births from her bosom, blessesmilk of the lords lovea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2943334/ if i ripped my veins out of my wristand made something to mylikeness, would i finallybe beautiful?i am no strangerto playing god, twisting fate, so in twisting these veinsis it love that i would create?i met god once, where everypath met, and we both weptfor the forgotten sonthe mercy at our ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/filler/2942512/