Newspaperish Hoodwink Draggle Nasonite

I swore today that I would write a poem
Not happening

"Captain," cried the lieutenant in fear, "our attacks seem to have no effect on their armour!"
The captain quickly grabbed the binoculars from the lesser soldier's hands, peering through them. All he could see was miles and miles of troops covered in a chalky white substance.
"Nasonite," he muttered, "I should have known the high court would leave out a detail like that."
"The high court, sir?" the lieutenant questioned, overhearing his superior's grumblings.
"That's right, the high court," replied the captain sharply, "those newspaperish dullards have had it in for me since I took over this regiment."
"But why, sir?" asked the lieutenant, who could hardly believe what he was hearing.
"Because!" snapped back the captain, "they'd rather see my name draggled through the slush at the cost of a few hundred lives then live with the idea of the Commonhood finally having a successful captain. And I was gullible enough to let them get away with it."
"You mean to say, captain," the lieutenant slowly stammered with fear, "that you were..."
"That's right," the captain answered, "hoodwinked."

Cliché

Everything here

Get Off My Case, Then Get Back On It.

Why am I so intrigued with my play counts? Say (All I Need) is leading the pack with 13.

I have canvases. I have paint. I want to paint. I want to make t-shirts again. I have a video camera; I want to make some movies. I want to make a comic book. I want to write one of my stories. I want to make music and finish an album. Realistically, I want to finish something. ANYTHING. Instead, I have books to read. Not the ones I want to read. The ones I have to read.

I want to die. Realistically, I want to run away. Somewhere far away. I want to stop going to school. I want to just work enough to support myself, and then do the things that I enjoy.

I need some achievable goals. I need to stop dreaming and start existing. I need something concrete to believe in again. I am still broken inside and at a lose for life.

I am lost, but I know where I'm going. I know where I will end up.

I am so damn sick of cover songs.

Somebody threaten my existence and force me back to work. I have the talent to be so much better then them, I just need more motivation.


















18 spaces for 18 years of this garbage. Going on 19 soon.

I want piano lessons. And a piano. And a drum set.