What should my first short story be.

Kid loses his ball...

Being a bad person before I’m good...

Venturing out onto a tall ship to sail…

These are adventures, yet none of them are calling to me.  So..

I paste and type, I grab and hold on to every word ever so tightly

What if I’m bad

What if I’m good

These are the two are having conversations in my head

While I trickle words down on to the page

Each letter getting slowly backspaced

Yet I still keep going even though, I should be negative

I’m done for now,

getting up to get some coffee.

See you in a few, says the excuses




The rhymes are over for now, they have gone to rest

Just the prose is left, and even he wants to go, but like an annoying house he stays

Not letting him have peace or space  

I keep writing the little words hoping the weight of them grows,

Do I have a thumb for this, Can the greats hear me,

My call forth, into the dark, telling them I’m here.  

Only time and my punchy little fingers floating down the river of this keyboard can tell

Here, I roar, if ever so silently.  Here I am.

Here’s my bow.  

Signed,
Isaac Ramiro