[Untitled]

Erase a line, then write another one
The completely white page
minatory to the
writer's conscious.

You type anything,
to get that obnoxious blinking cursor
moving.

Your mood shifts from irritable
to tempestuous.
Ready to obliterate the piece of technology
impulsively dump the now cold coffee
on the unused keyboard
to be able to finish anything
before your body decays and turns brittle
would be paradise
to the
literary
soul.

Bus Ride

I stepped on the bus steps, pulling my pass out from my wallet and flashed it to the driver, my bus pass was in front of my photo ID so I could have quicker access. The driver nodded his head and I walked toward the middle of the bus, it was a three car bus, and not many people were riding this time of day. My favorite seats were the ones in the middle, so you directly faced the windows. The bus started to roll. One, two, three blocks. People got on, people got off.  I stared at my reflection to pass the time, the window was slightly curved inward so my reflection was warped, I continued to stare, the reflection became more and more warped, worsening the longer I stared at it.
The bus jerked to a stop, I heard a teenager in the second car curse the bus driver. The doors opened, people got on, people got off. A Hispanic older man and his daughter, I guess, sat across from me. The man was speaking Spanish to someone a few seats away from me, and they laughed together. The girl next to him had an annoyed countenance. I stared at my hands, I knicked my finger cutting a tomato and the blood soaked through the bandage. The bus drove for a few blocks and stopped, the second man got off and the father talked to his daughter. She looked worse than before, she picked at her nails and looked like she was trying to ignore what her dad was saying. I moved my head and looked at the second car, there was a couple with their tongues so down each other's throat it could legally be called cannibalism.
Another stop.
I looked in the second car again, a woman was sitting in one of the chairs by herself, her hair looked like a beehive, her eyes were sunken in, her wrinkles deep set. I pulled on the stop cord of the bus and stared at the beehive woman. She looked ready to stand up herself, but a girl intervened. "Not this stop, this isn't your stop." she repeated.
I looked at the other people on the bus, they all looked like they were dying in their seat, decomposing on the red plastic. The beehive woman sat back, then looked up at the ceiling. She looked at everyone, the lost souls on the ride to who knows where. All I knew was the next stop jerked, and I stood up and walked out the door. I stood on the sidewalk and watched the bus.
Before I could turn around, a city truck, the kind with the cement mixer, rammed into the bus, toppling it over. I heard screams around me and the shrieking halt of the cars from the intersection. I took a deep breath and held my chest.
Not much of a stop, I thought.

Pitch Shift

If you pushed the speed slow
of a catchy beat,

a trip-hop kind of beat,
wherethewordswouldblend.

To a speed that spelled out

every
word
spoken.

The tempo timed different
and
the meaning of the song

changed

If you pushed it fast,
the most masculine
grungiest growls
sound like
bubblegum pop
trash.

Sometimes even the slightest semitone,
changes the song and startles
the listener.

Drabble 2

I woke, soggy, drenched, laying face down in a pile of mud, but that wasn't what woke me. What woke me was the feeling of needles stabbing up my arm, rapidly and through my clothes. pinching my skin. My hand swiped through the air and I heard a yelp.
"I'm trying to help you?!" The voice was high pitched and sharp, like a whistle. All I could think was 'are you?' but I didn't respond.
I opened my eyes and pushed myself up from my planked position. I looked for my so helper, but no person was in sight.
"Hello?" Screamed the voice. A glowing gnat flew around my face.
"Hello." I replied. My own voice startled me, it was booming compared to the flying thing. It stopped flying around and stayed in a consistent spot, to my surprise it wasn't the body of a bug staring back at me, but a tiny woman, no bigger than my pinky thumbnail. Her wings fluttered quickly, before she took off again, circling me.
"Can I, uh, get a little help?" I asked.
She flew toward my shoulder and climbed up. "With what?" She spoke into my ear.
"For starters, uh, who am I?" That question seemed pressing, more than the other hundred. "Or who are you? What are you? What am I doing here?" I looked around, I was surrounded by trees and my mud bed looked like I had been in it for awhile.
"I don't know the answer for any of those?" It sounded more like a question then a response. I took a look around again. Just forest, just her, and just me. I took a deep breath and exhaled. "You're not suppose to be here?" She tugged at my ear when she spoke.
"I don't..." My voice trailed off. She giggled and flew away. I followed, silent.
She took me to a clearing, a large deformed circle of grass, wide enough for several people to sit down. She flew around rapidly. From far away I could only hear the chirping, but at least I thought she was trying to speak. It took a long while but then more glowing bodies came out of the trees. Their combined stare sent shivers down my back. Finally one flew toward me, "You're not suppose to be here." She said.
"Where is here?" I asked quietly.
They looked at one another. The one closest to me said something un-human at the group. Then suddenly, looked at me, "You're in our home." She hissed. All but one in the group looked at me with piercing stares.
"Just tell me how to get home and I'll go." I begged, stepping away from the swarm.
"Close your eyes." She ordered. I hesitated, but did as she said.

When I woke up next, I was laying on the concrete, my hand clinging to a bottle of absinthe. My head pounded with a headache and my body shivered, I tugged at my damp clothes. I heard people walking by, laughing.
Finally, I stood up, holding my bottle. My teeth chattered and I walked away, catching a glimmer of light speed past me.

Fractals

From the grains of sand on the ocean floor
to the threads that wrap and hug your body
hair follicles to blood cells to atoms
everything is made up of something else
fractals make up fractals.

All the time spent together,
lounging about,
eventually it builds,
like rain drops that become lakes,
and wash you away.

I thought maybe you hid a crayon up your sleeve
because the way the world became brighter when you were around
maybe as I turned my back, you colored the flowers
shades brighter than they were.
You made the world a better place with your crayons.
So beautiful Mother Nature was in awe.

Sorry to say, it never lasted,
once you left
the flowers became shy,
the sky faded
the world became dull and flat.

You laid in a too-white sheets,
and the walls around you are an awful green,
that looked worse than pea-soup
the balloons and get-well flowers crowding the room.

Mother Nature cried for you when you passed
and dedicated hills of flowers to your honor,