Tampered Heart

The newspaper came this morning.
It said: "Local Man...Heart Stolen."
The reports say that they couldn't find the thief.

But I bet it was you.

You sleep with the night, you travel with it.
You entered my life and made headlines.
Stripping me of my pride, robbing me of my passion

I know it was you.

Now I lay here, broken.
My ink faded from your lies.
My pages torn and thrown with the wind.

I just know it was you.

The Nightrunner Taxi Driver

He spoke to me in the quickest fashion.
Slang, curse words but with passion.
He told me he goes to work at 2 am.
There were nothing but crackheads and hoes till 5 am.
But here he is: Picking me up at 6:20 am.

He pulled up with one honk.
"Hempstead man?" he said.
Hempstead Man? Is he talking to me?
"You goin' to Hempstead?" he asked, much clearly.
Oh, yes. Hempstead.

Driving along he goes.
Onto his crackheads on hoes.
He told me that he was suppose to clock in at 5 am
Where his boss was waiting for him.
But here he is: Speeding down the turnpike.

He slammed on the gas.
"I'm kinda in a hurry no?" he said.
No? Is he serious?
"I'm late for my clock in." he lit his cigarette.
"I'm trying to fucking scrap up a few people before I go in."
Oh really? It's hard to tell.
"I work the night hours. Nothing but fucking bitches and pricks."
Cleaning up the streets are we?
"Like, what is this shit? 3 am in the fucking morning and you're sloshed out of your fucking mind!"
It happens.

We get to Hempstead.
5 minutes flat, no less than.
He told me he'll make one more round.
He told me to fuck his boss.
And there he is: Speeding out of the drop-off lane.

He's the Nightrunner.
Fuck the crackheads and hoes.
When will he stop?
No one knows.

Thank You

I just want to take the time to say "thank you" to those of you have read my blog. I mean, even if you were just browsing with the thought "Is this guy good enough to follow?" Thank you. It means a lot to know that I have people reading my work. Even if you don't like what I write, thank you for taking the time to skim through it. To the people who comment: Thank you. Your comments mean a lot and I take them into consideration to help me become a better writer.

Again, thanks for reading!

NaNoWrMo

Yeah gang! November is National Novel Writing Month. I'll be participating in it as well for the first time. It's where you write a 50,000 word novel in one month. It's most definately a challenge for me, but everyone needs a challenge. I encourage all writers to do so, because you can see what is your limit with length.

Wish me luck and thank you for reading my blog!

Cubist Interaction

Overlapping one another, these paintings describe a feeling.
A sharp, angular structure that depicts an emotion.
What does it mean? What does it do?
But rather what do you feel?
An interaction unlike any else. What do you feel?
Dim colors that trigger the mind.
Images to hard to picture. What can you see?
These are the questions you ask...
in the middle of your Cubist Interaction.

Mental Idleness

What brings me to this place?
This corner of my bare mind which holds needless questions?
These problematic scenarios that I cannot overcome.
Why must I feel this way?
Trapped. Cornered. Sick.
How can I make this go away?
So I can free myself from the shackles of regret.
Burdened by my own doubts and sin.
It's hard to know where too begin--
If there is a beginning...
Endless tracks of terrible reason,
but the ends can justify the means.
Let me resign in my own mental despair.
My own mental idleness.

T-Mobile

They said that I was 63 in the queue.
They thanked me for my patience.
They said an agent would be with me shortly.
They thanked me for my patience again.

They said I was 59 in the queue, the next available agent would answer my question.
Again, they thanked me for my patience.

T-Mobile...I'm running out of patience.