How To Become A Writer Because Hobos Terrify Me

Hi. Yes hello and welcome to yeah... whatever this is. Its rlly gr8 and full of things. This might be filled with good persons, places or things but the likely hood of that is slim to none. Leave now if you really care because nothing ever done in the name of science is legal. *wink wink*  Don't spend all your money on booze because the bible says not to. Well Duh. 

Yeah this is pretty much just a land of forgotten words that always disappear after blacking out drunk. 

I was going to put a inspirational story that I wrote when I was in 8th grade here, on this very post!! but it wasn't very inspirational and made like no sense at all. I can become a writer eh? Yeah and get inspired by paintings that were drawn up by dead men who we all know were taking a little too much weed.

Here I'll bestow some advice that I got from a hobo site.

Learn the hobo code.  Don't hesitate to dumpster dive.            

                                                            Why even take advice from hobos? We all know we walk on the opposite side of the road because I don't want their filthy words all up in my grill.

Yep absolutely thrilling.

Does this make me a writer Now?

I guess you wouldn't care really now would you.        

I think I am a genuinely happy person, so why can I only write about pain and death? "I dunno ya weirdo, no one cares!"

I'm a writer and you're a writer, heck I'm even a jack o lantern. 

There are no guidelines, no wikihow to become a writer in 6 steps (even though I bet a million dollars there is one) so. just. yeah. be whatever all right? 

Do step one and then bam. yep, you sir won the prize 

because now you are an 

artist. 

Yeah I did it, I went there

When you get back, please tell me how you're trip was.

In My Heart

"Hi, my name is Cameron" he said as he shone a goofy smile my way. His calming blue eyes twinkled as the sun gazed upon them and happiness beamed from his face.

He was my best friend and my first love...

We hiked slowly through the dead brush and began to climb this hill. The sun began to set but kept shining and the heat tickled my face pink. We continued towards the park that lay on the top of this hillside and with each step he always turned back to make sure I wasn't too far behind.

We reached the top and looked over the city that spread out below us. Lights began to sizzle as the shade of darkness enclosed the valley.

We walked over to a wooden platform that rests at the top of the hill overlooking the cities scooped into valleys on either side of us. We sat on the edge of the platform and watched as darkness began to wake up the city's lights, and as cars zoomed through the streets.

It was silent as we sat together as if the world had fallen asleep as the lights of the night had come out to play.

I sat so close to him that I could feel the soft heat emanating off of him almost as if enticing me. Pure childish giddy spread across my face and soon that space between us no longer cried out. His presence sent chills up my spine and he embraced me slowly as we sat and peered down into the city.

I came close to his chest and took comfort in the strong, consistent beating of his heart and with each breath  his chest glided in and out. He smelled fresh and sweet like the earth after it was bathed in rain.

He began to point out to lights which had looked so familiar in the day, but have seemed to transform in the night. We guessed the neighborhoods and which store was which, followed by the occasional laugh that vibrated through his chest and tickled my face.

Awhile later we began to walk down the hill and through the streets until we got to the fork in the road where we went separate ways. We stood underneath a lamppost with the orange light illumining us in the darkened night.

He stared down into my eyes and a playful smile crept onto his face. He held me close in a last embrace. He pulled back softly holding my hands in his, he began to lean towards me and kissed me softly.

He departed slowly and with step he took I missed him more and yearned to feel his embrace. After standing still under the pale orange light for a few minutes I began to walk home.

My whole body buzzed with excitement as I jumped a fence, walked into my house and got ready to sleep.

That was the last time I ever saw my beloved friend; he died the next day.

How It Feels Just To Breathe With No Air

The car shifts and grumbles on the rock laden road. A beat up truck cruised along, it had rust covering more of it's surface than paint and the left tire in the back is extremely flat. Each rock we hit I'm slammed against the side of the truck and I'm positive that this truck is going to explode if we go any further.

As if this ride couldn't get any worse it was, starting with when I was thrown into the back wrapped in a potato sack with my hands and feet bound together....

A slimy wet cloth is choking me and some fume soaked into the linen swept up into my lungs. My brain begun to careen out of control and all I could do was lay down and pass out.

I come to my senses and start panicking when I realize I am in a claustrophobic potato sack. I willed myself to take deep breaths and stay as calm as possible but that's pretty hard when I've realize I have been kidnapped.

A few more hours and the truck coughs to a halt. I listen closely to try and determine where we could possibly be. Unstoppable tears careen off my face and all my hope begins to crumple in on itself like plastic in a blazing fire. "I love you" forms on my lips for my family, but I know that it won't ever make it to them.

The doors open and slam simultaneously and I hear the men's ruffled low voices continue the conversation from when they were in the car.

"I've told you that we've been duped." said one on the left side of me.

The other man yelled "Well then what are we supposed to do with her?!"

I could sense their gazes had  fallen upon me and I almost shrieked, because I could almost feel their hands on me again, picking me up and ripping me away from my house.

They went to the hood of the car and began to whisper together and as much as I possibly strained my ears I could not hear what they had planned for me.

I began to panic, the air in this sack was becoming tight and humid, my asthma began to kick in.

They came back to the end of the truck, opened up the latch and hopped up into the back of the truck and stood inches from me.

All at once they grabbed me from the sack and held a chunk of my hair and ripped me forward into the darkness.

Now I could see where I was and I started screaming as they pulled me closer and closer to the water of the ocean. The cool sand prickled my feet and I tried pulling away and fighting but it was all too painful.

Tears blurred my vision and my ears began to ring.

Before I knew it water had elapsed all around my body and I felt encased as if in jell-o. I tried struggling and clawing at whoever was behind me but he was far too strong for me to do anything.

Fear pumped through my body as I realized this was the end. There is no other feeling like how it feels to breathe with no air. Because you can't

Water raged in and out and I tried to scream as my chest began to burn like a fire had lit inside my lungs and blackness began to take over my vision.

My body grew weak and I try once more to flail and try to escape but then it all went silent and I knew I had lost.


 Soon after I became blinded by a light that encompassed my surroundings as far as I could see. I felt my legs move toward it so I let them.

 I walked into the light and I never looked back
because I couldn't.

Thinking but not Remembering

I run up and down the stairs, sing my favorite opera song, type my essay on a typewriter, and still nothing happens.

Should I be upset that I am still the same, that my brain hasn't exploded and have ideas flood my head like a typhoon?

I never could summon my soul when need be. It likes to be alone as if it is a daughter who has a non understanding father. It closes the door shut and will never be reasonable.

It always seems  to be bad before the good. My brain is like my mouth in that neither have a filter and I've always wondered is there some place I can buy one??

I succumb to Pogo sticking in my front yard, licking the fur of my dog, and dancing like a lunatic.

But it never works.

I start to wonder "why does nothing I think of ever work".

I lose hope and maybe I am not creative!

This is not meant for me, it's for that other guy down the street that takes weird pictures of his muscles.

Because he has an art gallery,

and I don't.

The hardest part of being an artist is not thinking but remembering.

Remembering what it felt like
and the rush that filled my veins
how I could ever live without this feeling


Remembering Creativity.

Different

I never do my assignments so I'm being different by doing one haha.

Love don't die 

its what I say it's not what I do. 

Your love it was only pretend

 I'd turn around if you beg me to stay

 heart breaker with an ego 

I've got more to say

 that aint no compliment thats the truth that's why I am leaving you 

buh duh nuh nuh du du du 

I'm leaving youuuuu

dadaddaaaawawayayaya

all I am

 in my hands 

but I stand

 lets have an adventure 

gravitys centered 

one love 

too coolowowowowoollddd 

here and now 

knoooooowwww 

not much to say 

so far away

ya love the taste yeaah

a place I've been dreamin of

we can dance like there is no tomorrow

of time and spaaaaaceee

I gotta do high

I gotta do all of it

I can feel the city crumblin around me

Can't seem to find my way

it went away so fast

got to let go

so here we go!

I can feel the heart beat underneath the concrete just like a kid drawing planes

Now rap it.

I Am Left Without

Have you ever felt betrayed?

I have.

Betrayed like a child without a mother.

Betrayed by god when I've felt all alone.

Betrayed when a son dies of cancer.

Betrayed when your friend forgets you.

Betrayed like a dog left in a pound to die.

Betrayed like a toy resting in the dust of the shelves of DI.

Betrayed like a divorce.

Betrayed like another bruise that appears on my mother's face.

Betrayed like a father who abandons his family.


Betrayed like the day I died in a car crash. I saw glimpses fading in and out until I felt tingling in my heart, my eyes shot open suddenly and I was gasping; my throat tightened because smoke had filled the car. My mouth was stained with a gagging sensation of metal. My neck felt like concrete but the urge to see my mother took over all my thoughts. I finally turned my head rewarded with immense pain and a sudden snap. My body began to convulse and the corners of my vision blotched with blackness. I willed myself to stay alert enough to see my mother, and I soon spotted her lying on her back a few yards from the car. She laid motionless, and if that wasn't enough to assume her death; the large shard of metal protruding from her stomach would be. Exasperated I let into my body shutting down, but not before something in the car was sizzling, it began to scorch my skin, then it was over.

She lived.

Did I betray her?

Did she betray me?

What is a List

Tear drops glide from my cheeks onto the paper that sleeps on my lap. It is blank.

This is my list of happiness and it is completely bare

A list is supposed to embody your soul but mine doesn't. It is supposed to hold the things I cannot live without, my purpose in life, yet it only hold the stillness after death.

My body tightens and anger mixes in with my tears. I grasp the paper, yelling, cursing but I know it will never  change. "WHY am I this way?" gurgles out of my mouth along with all my sadness. Corners crunch, the paper stretches agonizingly , cries out loud and rips and rips and rips until it lay silent on the floor.

I am breathing heavy as the madness takes over and glass begins to hit the floor and the walls.

I realize I am no longer in control of my own self and its almost as if I am watching from the sidelines, as something I no longer recognize begins to tear it's sanity apart.

It has never been the same since that day. I finally understood why I as never happy, because I was never me.

It was always it; controlling me, clawing through my skin, making my insane.

I watch it etch another tally mark onto the blank concrete, hidden as white and calming asylum walls.

It has finally taken over me, forever.

Insidious is the last word that passes my lips before I slip into the unknown world they title; Limbo.