I am not a writer.

I am a fox
in a man-suit
pretending to be a writer.

Just to trick you all.

Just to trick myself.

If I put down
the pen
and the pretententiousness;
pulled the costume off
in a papery rip like a jet breaking the sky,
and
looked in the mirror
to see
that fire of fur,
then it would mean
that there is something inside of me that I've been using as fuel.

Something
non-renewable.

Distracted

by the flying thoughts
within my mind
as I think fleetingly
from one thought to
the next...

Not really stopping
to analyze or put to the test
What did I have for lunch today?
Is he worth it?
What's due in class tomorrow?
When am I going to do it?
I have to work...
I miss my mom
I love hanging out with my friends
that light is really bright
I think it's giving me a headache
Christ, I'm tired
No, I don't want to listen to that song
This one's better
Why is it so cold in here?
Why is this comforter so hot?
I really should go to bed
My mind is reeling
I wonder if he likes me
I think I might like him
But it's complicated
Math is complicated
I'm taking a math class next semester
I hope it's easy
I'm hungry
I think I ate all of those chocolate things that he gave me...
Yeah. Yup. Sure did.
My mouth is dry, and my head itches.
Now my back itches because I thought of my head itching.
I wonder if it'll even work
Worth a shot I guess
But what about...
no.
That won't work.
That was made clear.
Oh well. A loss isn't the end of the world.
I wonder if the end of the world really is 2012.
If it is, I want to conquer my fear of heights before then.
I should have a better goal than that before the end of the world...
I'll have paid for a **** load of schooling for no reason...
sigh
yawn
I should listen to music
It calms my mind
writing helps dump my thoughts onto paper
Welcome to the random discertation that is my mind
Once upon a story and
THE END.

Hair flecked with silver streams

Grooves in the skin creating ripples of wisdom

Wisdom shown in the glossy eyes



Body of watery experience sitting in the rickety chair,

the chair that squeaks with every rocky wave



If wisdom had a visible aura

it would be seeping out of his eye sockets

creating rivers of tears flowing down the cheekbones



It would be pouring out of his ears,

watering the thirsty hydrangeas that rest by his feet



It would be running out of his nose

into the decades of wisdom gathering around his chin



It would be salivating out of the corners of his mouth,

down his chin

drenching the front of his argyle sweater vest



But people walk by

blinded by nearsightedness

They don't see the water that creates a tsunami

strong and tall



People walk by

content on their dry scratchy gravel,

not wanting to dip their toes

into the murky pond before them



People walk by

closer toward the desert

where they get stuck

waiting for something to quench their thirst.

This fits nicely into the story of my life
A nice chapter leading up to the ******
The ****** that wasn't as long and steady as it should have been
A ****** that took a vertical drop to an unresolved conclusion
This fits nicely into the story of my life
It took up a few pages
But I'll have to wait for the publication of the sequal
to find out what happens next

This rough draft of Part II is a bad sketch
There is grammer errors and mispellingz
My punctuation. Is off as, well as my punctuality
But the sequal will be released in time

As the author of my story,
I'm not sure any words will start with the letter you.

I am me

simple sentence

that no amount of words

can correctly interpret



you are you

you are different than me

simple concept

with a complex definition



we are close

but with a fair distance between us

these kilometers aren't always noticed

so you start your journey

over to me



eager at first

running at full speed

until your lungs shrink

and your pace slows



what you see in front of you

keeps getting further

it is just a mirage

you can't touch it

but you can see it

and sense its presence

and that will have to be good enough

for now.