Valor & Zeal Gaming

I wrote this in five minutes, so don't expect too much of it.

Trail

Lone teabag in saucer dish in front of me.
Why hasn’t it been thrown away?
Why hasn’t the saucer been put to work?
There is milk that could sit there instead, and a
Cat’s tung that could lap it- kiss it for being there.

Sadly, there is no cat: she died from a snake bite to the eye. She couldn’t see life anymore.
She couldn’t chase anymore. She couldn’t kill anymore.
She could only wander from our bamboo yard into thick woods, and die, while we were in Colorado.
I can imagine her surronded by leaves, decomposing.
This makes me cry.

Things like these plague me when I’m alone, and I usually try to off them with swift kicks of music.
Harmonious beats.
Pained lyrics.
Clever rhymes- not so clever.
Lent talents of others.

I will never face my problems alone.

And I will always think poorly of myself for this.

If music fails,
my social-intellectual “lubricant” comes into play.
I no longer think.
I enjoy.
And everything is okay. For two hours anyway.

Secretly, I think my friends like me better that way, and secretly,
I hate them for this.
I want to shout “ WAKE UP” scream into there mouth to listen to me.
But this would prove there point,
This also makes me sad.

And at this point, my music gives me a headache, and I cannot rely on myself.
So I sit.
And then find my jogging shoes.
And pretend to go running, but sit in the woods and smell the damp leaves.
One always finds it’s way back with me.

sooooooooo, no comments.

I was hoping someone would atempt the same: A stream of consciousness written in five minutes or less,but I guess not.

You're like the Elizabeth Browning of the 21st century?

You're like the one who'd know that. She sucks.