May 2008 Creative Writing
The momentary rush of excitement
splashes over me like
water on a thirsty fire.
I’m filled with flames of curiosity and
the need for social fulfillment.
It may be two in the morning,
and I do need to get up at six,
but if there was a delicious slice of
chocolate cake within arm’s reach,
wouldn’t you eat it?
Just a quick peek.
Any messages?
Any new wall posts?
Click. Click.
No? Okay, well, any new pictures?
No?
Facebook,
you’re a slimy leech.
Hand me the salt.
May 2008 Creative Writing
Both hands are hanging
empty
at my sides.
My steps are quick and purposeful:
Just get to class.
My enviously green eyes catch
cuddles
and nuzzles
and other things I don’t have.
It seems like every other hand in the world
has someone else’s in it.
Every finger woven into a safe embrace
except mine.
The only things my hands hold
are pencils during the day and my
wet face at night.
May 2008 Creative Writing
Crap! Look who’s walking this way.
Everyone at the table
SHIFTED in their seats.
Stiff necks and scrambling hands
frantically searching for something,
anything to keep him
away.
If I can just open my Math book,
his grimy eyes could slide over me
and onto someone else instead.
With the same thought in each mind
it might have appeared that the
flat, sticky toll of the bell had already rung
and everyone was just off to class.
But that would have been too convenient.
The voice of the unfortunate victim
was coated with a curious
pseudo-friendly slime.
But this was the sweetest of chocolate syrup
when compared to the awkward goop that
flowed so profusely
from this poor excuse for a high schooler.