Early morning, late night

Actually anytime.

Inspired by books

Inspired by life.

Strong opinions, vague thoughts.

Vivid imagination, loss of words.

Mumbling nonsense when thoughts strike.

Making stories that stay in my mind.

Like a bar of chocolate, the pen calls to me.

I'm no Queen Rowling, just plain old me.

I write when I'm inspired

Whether it makes sense or not

Time doesn't matter

Just the topic does.

Mirror, mirror on the wall

Who's the most judgmental of them all?

Am I fat? Am I weak?

Making an enemy of my own body.

Reflective glass tears my skin

Makes me shameful, outside in

Shards of truth to reflect my fears

No longer able to hide these tears,

Or these scars upon my skin

Reflective of an ugly within.

Mirror, mirror on the wall

Oh how you're the most frightening of them all.

The young, giant DJ was thrown out of my friend's house party for starting and/or finishing a fight. One girl came out to help him. "It's okay, babe." He said getting up and putting his Oakleys back on his head. "Let's get out of here, I can play you music at my place." He said. She clearly wasn't into that idea, but before she could say anything, he was kissing her.

When he stopped, she smiled and said, "Go to the car. I need to get my purse." He smiled and got in the car. She was clearly not coming back.

I had heard this DJ's god awful music before and unaware that I was watching him, he put on his own dance mix and turned it up.

After waiting a while, he was visibly frustrated. Just as he was about to get out of the car, there was a twist: his remix of Rebecca Black's "Friday" came on and he starts crying, still unaware that I'm watching. Naturally, I start recording on my phone.

"IT'S NOT FRIDAY ANYMORE REBECCA" he screams in tears at his stereo. With that, he sped off, clearly too upset to play music for anyone else that night.

My closed eyes

What do they hide

Within that static dark blackness

The blue glow of lines that slide from one lid to the other

The ghostly remnants of things I had just seen

My closed eyes 

What do they hide 

The cast and crew

Of a life I once knew

Upon their screen will play a dream 

As my brain tries to make me see the moments unseen

A lady mugged across the street,

Turn away and continue to eat,

She falls to floor and cries,

But all I do is avert my eyes.

Anguished cries go on outside,

I close the window and hide,

Turn up the music to drown out the screams,

I can’t hear it anymore and go back to my dreams.

“Where are you hurt?”

Shake my head and smooth down my skirt,

“We can help you but you need to speak.”

I don’t say a word and he’s harmed another in a week.

The woman mugged and wasn’t helped lost her spark,

Now all she does is sit alone and cry in the dark,

The cries that went ignored outside,

Meant a man was left alone to die,

Refusal to help, speak out and tell,

Meant that another child went through hell.

A woman mugged across the street,

I helped her up and stopped the deadbeat,

Anguished cries start up outside,

Picked up the phone and the man didn’t die,

“He touched me there, I didn’t want to play.”

He won’t harm another, behind bars he’ll stay.

See no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil,

Sit back and let the world carry on causing upheaval,

Or watch for the truth and listen out for the lies,

Speak of the wrongdoings, use your head and be wise.

Ahem:

Jimby Mash and Joey Mosh were dual kings of pain;

One sold E and LSD, the other sold cocaine.

They had their share of differences, they had their friendly spats,

But in the sins beneath their skins, they’re more or less the same...

Jimby Mash and Joey Mosh began to drift apart;

Business was vicious, see, it got into their hearts--

And all it takes is one mistake ’til someone’s temper snaps;

(In this case it was Joey’s thoughts on Jimby’s taste in art.)

Jimby Mash and Joey Mosh did get into a war,

The kind concerned with making right what had been wrong before--

But once into this mode of thought those two were thoroughly trapped,

The fighting was relentless, yes, ’til Mash and Mosh got bored!

Mash and Mosh found common ground, for that for them we clap--

That E, cocaine, and LSD may henceforth flow unstopped!

This, you must understand, is why.

Wake me up, 

my morning savior. 

My burning cup of brewed earth. 

My cream bathed, 

sugar dazzled, 

auburn sea. 

My flavorsome energizer, 

which lures my eyelids toward 

the ceiling each dawn. 

My surprise-filled grainy, blend. 

Will you be infused with hazelnut, honey, lemon, 

or just your pure, mocha-self 

this morning? 

My greatest addiction, 

you sit with me at the counter, 

tall dark and handsome. 

You tease my senses, 

tempt my lips. 

Your steaming, aromatic arms unravel, 

and draw my lips closer to you. 

You saturate my parched lips, 

replenish my fervor. 

My tastebuds' only lover, 

I cannot leave before I lap up 

every last bit of you. 

Drown me in your strong, caffeinated, 

serene body. 

The sad truth is that as I become more alive, 

you diminish. 

But I savor every last drop of you 

until you are all gone. 

We will meet again tomorrow morning 

in my quiet kitchen, 

where you will invigorate me once again, 

for the long day ahead.

We don't talk anymore.

We used to all the time, chattering on about this or that.

But then you all came, and we faded into what we are.

We are the darkness that used to talk.

We are the shadows upon the sidewalk.

We follow you around because we think you are interesting.

But deep inside you've hurt us.

You, humans, and your blinding light have caused us to become shadows.

We don't talk anymore.

Because though there are many things to say, we think you need to find them out yourselves.

We don't talk anymore.

It's a personal choice.