bleh

Lately i have been an unproductive blob that haunts the downstairs kitchen.

Possibilities...

take me on a star stellar journey across the universe,

and meet me on the other side,

take me where all the i couldn't be's,

and blow my mind

with all the possibilities...

On replay

For some reason i cant get this song out of my head

people in planes- token trapped woman

"I have to sell my soul to you
and that's just to pay for its renewal

How long have you been at it
How many fingers am I holding up
I know I was away for a while
But now I'm back, does it make any difference
This woman's in a state
Better tie her up
Put her on my plate
And I'll make her smile again
That's the point
Nobody ever asked you how you feel

You are trapped
Don't waste your energy
You're just trapped
Don't waste your energy

Cracked up woman
On the run
See it weighs me down
Like tar in your lung
You are trapped, don't waste your energy
Waste your energy

You said that night that we might run away
And yes we'll end up in some better place
And once we're gone there'd be no coming back

Why should you beg forgiveness, from us
For the pleasure you give us
You're just trapped
Don't waste your energy

You said that night that we might run away
And yes we'll end up in some better place
And once we'd gone there'd be no coming back "

A Little After Midnight...

(story i have been working on)

Its a little after midnight, and she slowly crawls out of bed. She looks around her room looking for her backpack that has all the necessary items she packed earlier that day. She slips on her shoes and creeps out into the hallway. She grabs her coat and carefully makes her way down the narrow hallway hoping she doesn't run into the family cat, which has the tendency of hissing and growling at anything that comes across its path. She wishes someone would run it over with a car already. As she makes her way down the dark corridor to the stairs she hopes pauses by her parent's room. She knows all to well that the floors creak and squeal the loudest in front of their room. She starts to walk lightly, placing on foot firmly on the floor and shift her weight fully onto it.

She hears her father's snore and her mothers breathing. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She quickly makes her way pass their door and silently flies down the door. She pauses at the backdoor, listening to see if everyone besides her is stirring in the small, cramped apartment. All is quiet and she slips out the back door.


"Where has that girl run off too again?"
"I don't know. I didn't hear anything last night. Its her life she is fucking up," sighs Josh. "Don't bitch at me Dad."
"I dont know about your sister anymore, she is never home, shes failing at school and shes always locked up in her damned room. I dont know what to do anymore," Stan sighs, her daughter was always the black sheep in the family. She was smart, he knew that, but she never really applied herself anymore. He looks up from the table and sees a picture of her hanging on the wall, a genuien smile apon her face. "What happened to that little girl," He thought as his anger began to rise. He stands from the table heads over to the picture, picks it off the wall slowly admiring the frame as he shakes his head once more and flings it across the room.

It hits the wall with a loud clatter as the frame breaks and falls to the floor. The room falls silent and his wife snickers only to follow him upstairs. Slowly the elderly woman sitting in the corner of the room rises from her chair. Her hair a lovely shade of salt and pepper, her eyes droopy with age and with her wrinkly hands that shows the hard life she had lived she picks up the broken frame. Everyone had already left to go about their day. Her eyes glisten as she looks at the picture. Why doesn't anyone see it? Her granddaughter was always a little off beat, but in that picture she sees the bruise apon her forehead sliglty covered by her dark hair,she sees the sadness in her eyes. The forced smile she wore. She silently whispers as she brushes her hand across the picture, "This is not a home, it hasn't been for a long time." As she slowly begins to clean up the mess her own son made, nothing but a slave to her own son.