3:15 in the morning

and my head is spinning

i feel so dizzy

and awfully alone

i miss you

badly

is it wrong to miss someone

i've never met

you're in my mind

like a drug

i can't get you

out of it

why do you always

take my breath away

and i know you're awake

of course you are

you're in pain

alot of it

i wish i could hold you

and never let go

and promise that everything would be okay

but i can't

because i'm a few hours away

i wish i could drive

so i could finally go and

see you

i hope you're doing well

better atleast

my angel you make me smile

when i'm feeling weak

so it hurts

knowing you're not yourself

and i'm sorry

i guess we're both not okay

it's 3am

and i'm not great

but one thing will stay the same

and it's the fact that

my 3am thoughts

are always filled with you

An Anglo-American Archeologist, an Arabic Astronomer, and an African Academic are aggressively arguing an awe-inspiring analysis about accusing aborginal abolitionists's affect abusing American alliance.

Archeologist: "Alas! Abolitionists against annoying antipatriot arsonists are accumulating awards and accomodations! Ancient ages are attributing affects and answers!"

Astronomer: "Ah! Arrogant ass! Astronomy answers all agree arson arguably alters authority against available agreeable assests!"

Academic: "All absurdities! An American alliance against angry arsonists arranges assests around authoritaive adjudicators, acknowledging an astronomical association around American advocates and arsonists arranging alliances amongst all accredited activists!"

An absurd argument, all agree, and an ambitious article addressing abolitionist activity. And avid anthologist are aching at all avenues about arguing annoying academic assemblies. Ah, act aware! Academic assemblies are always an awkward assumption away against apocalyptic atrotrocities.

'Twas a bright, smiling day in the forest of Prilly,

when Kevin was singing and looking quite silly.

With an out-of-key song and a skip in his step,

he made a tough journey look less than a schlep.

Though, good Kevin had to stop while mid-song

as he came across something that seemed very wrong.

"A weed? In the forest of Prilly, no less!

something like this makes it look such a mess!"

But as Kevin stooped and eyed the plant nearer,

his identification of the weed became clearer.

"Aha!" he declared, though it didn't state much,

that is, until he said something as such;

"No! I was wrong! I was wrong, indeed!

For this plant is one pretty rose! Not a weed!"

Kevin clapped for himself, for he had done well,

until he had given the rose a good smell.

"Oh dear," he declared. Again, nothing stated.

"It appears that my information is dated!

For this is no weed or a rose, if you will.

This seems to be just one pretty daffodil."

Good Kevin leapt in the air with great glee,

for there was no truth that he could not see,

apart from the fact that the plant he had named

was not of the title that he'd entertained.

You see, in some cases, Kevin did succeed.

For example, he knew the plant was not a weed.

And also he figured, with the help of his nose,

that the plant before him wasn't really a rose.

Good Kevin, however, knew not much more

than a plain, old rock when it came to the outdoor.

You see, Kevin got one thing wrong that day

and yet he kept singing and skipping away.

So, just as he can't tell a horse from an ant,

Good Kevin couldn't name the Prilly-posh plant.

"I'm not touching that thing!"cried Satan, after Adolf sat down with Vlad and Joseph, setting a flat rectangular box in the middle of the black oak table.

They all chuckled as Vlad reminded Lucifer, "We all know what happened the last time you joined us for game night."

Adolf chimed in, "Right, you wet yourself right onto Atilla's robe when you landed on Boardwalk! AH HA HA HA HA HA!"

"Piss off, mortals!" Snapped back Beelzebub. "You all know I can't stand that game!"

"But this version is Care Bearolpoly," giggled Stalin.

"It's the same fucking thing!" the Ruler of the Darkness retorted.

Adolf gently lifted the lid and the Devil screamed "Please don't do it or I will eat all your WAGs, you assholes!"

Der Führer reached in the box slowly while the others could hardly hold themselves together.

Suddenly, Adolf smacked an orange card on the Antichrist's forehead right between the horns. "Go to jail. Do not collect $200!"

Vlad fell right off his chair laughing as the Evil One fainted dead away.

sound turned up

so loud

we can’t hear

our racing thoughts

over the roar

of blood rushing

through our ears.

I close my eyes

As music flows

Through my veins

Like a never-ending river

Twisting and swirling.

Suddenly a new world opens

Things I never imagined

Appearing before me

Eyes widening as I

Marvel at the magnificence.

7 notes with endless possibilities

Each melody beautiful

Delicate and unique

Mysterious like magic

It leads the way.

My worries and stress

Fade away

The music takes over

My heart sings

And takes flight.

The world becomes complete

I see the beauty once more

The inspirations overwhelming

As I keep playing

Weaving a little song.

Time starts flying

Hours pass

Still, I stay

Playing on my harp

Relaxed yet focused.

Life is not perfect

During bad times

I express my sorrow

Through harmonies

Which dampens the pain.

When I feel alone

I count down the time

Until I can run home

And immerse myself

Into the music.

"How will we escape?" I asked.

"We need a diversion. A big one," he replied.

"I have an idea," I said. I telepathically reached out to our human guard, who was playing on his iPhone, and began subtly manipulating him.

*OPEN FACEBOOK*

*CREATE EVENT*

*STORM AREA 51*