Two TV's,

Tiny TV's,

Dully sitting next to each other.

Two old,

Scratched up TV's

With crooked entenas.

Two TV's

Rest in front of

A pare of

Light blue eyes.

Their entenas

Laying on two ears

Covered by

Black locks of hair

Stuck loosely on an

Unknown mind,

Inside an unknown head,

Screwed on

A mysterious body,

In a pinstripe suit.

Two TV's

Hide ones inner style

A black blur.

Walking slowly,

to his chair.

He sits,

quietly,

for eternity.

Standing up,

RARELY

for a unknown picture,

an unknown smile,

an unknown wave.

I sat there
laughing
with my friend.
Eating
oh so slowly
the same food
I eat
EVERY
day.
We're still eating.
She's almost done
but I have
oh so much MORE
to eat.
And SPLAT!
A squishy,
pink substance
LANDS
on my backpack;
on me;
on my friend.
Two girls frolic away...
one unknown,
but the other
with UnMiStAkAbLe
Marty Graw colored hair.
A dying Gogurt
lay beside the tree.
Remembered by few

This picture goes with "Yogurt Squisher"

So quiet,
sitting there
all alone.

Your long, black hair,
Falling... Falling...
into your eyes.

A cloak,
the replica of a
moonless sky.

The blackness
that surrounds you
engulfs your mind.

Standing there,
a smile so unusual
day dreaming of night.

A delicate smile;
a delicate wave;
leaving the dark night, to find a darker one.

It was a dark and stormy night when the wind cut through the waves and the little tugboat out at sea was flipped over by the storm. The tugboat was found the next day when the storm had cleared, but there was no sign of any passengers, dead or alive. A large area of the ocean was searched around where the tugboat was found, but there was still nothing. That very same day a phone call was made to the police , stating that a little girl of about eight years was missing. She had been there the night before; her mother had tucked her in. But now she was gone without a ransom note of anything, and no one had heared a struggle, a scream. No one had heared her leave. Loads of detectives arrived and searched through the house for fingerprints or clues, but there was nothing. It was as if a giant wave had come in and swept away any and all clues, leaving a blank sense of nothing. Back at the ocean, the rescue team decided to abandone their search, for they knew they would not fing anything. They thought the boat had just come untied somhow and got carried off to sea. They were wrong. 500 miles away, a little eight year old girl lay unconscius at the bottom of the ocean, screaming a silent scream. Then she died.

When I watch you,
An old, smelly bag
Of laundry,
Lying on a deserted
Back porch
In a dull,
Dull,
Rainstorm Or When I watch you,
So mad,
So angry,
At the world,
Like a pitbull<br> Foaming
At the mouth
Watching,
Waiting,
With those little,
Red,
Beady eyes,
Waiting

For

Your

Time

To

Come

I say
When I watch you,
Your once
Tiny
Hands
Now SO BIG,
And
Full of grief,
Gripping,
Oh so tightly,
Your only love.
You could have been
GREAT
But you chose
Different path

To

Walk

On

I wander
Through your decisions
I wander...

Envy is a tiny leprachaun, much smaller than the others. He is a runt who loves only his possessions; a vast supply of Lucky Charms and a giant pool of gold. He is a couch potato, watching TV all day long while eating junk food and feeling sorry for himself. Envy peers out the window, secretly spying on his neighbors, Joy and Passion, splashing through puddles, huge smile spread across ther faces as they sing and dance. Envy thinks of his only friends, Jealousy and Revenge. The closest he had ever come to smiling while around them was when they took a perfect, red lollipop away from a little girl. He was happy until he realized the girl just took another one, perhaps even more perfect, from her tiny pink backpack. Although envy is rich with gold, he feels very, very poor. He feels he needs to get back at the world for trapping him with such unwanted qualities; for however hard he tries, he can not rid of them; leave them for a smile and laughter. So he starts plotting, plotting how to make others suffer just as much as himself. He sets out, and starts visiting others, convincing them that they should have everything that their friends, family and neighbors have. That they can't be happy unless they get all the things they want. With everyone he visits, Envy leaves a part of himself. And soon, soon the world is full of envy, and even the toughest minds aren't tough enough to fight back. Now Envy is satisfied, but oh so evermore envious, of the many who can continue their lives with only a simple apology, and a bright smile appearing on their faces once again.

My mind is like a potato. The scrawny outside, a gateway to my thoughts, letting only a few memories and ideas flourish at a time. The inside is blank and boring, yet oh so intricate. It may look perfect from a distance, but when you look at it closely you can see all the tiny holes and rotting spots. These are my memories, good and bad, parts that can't just be rinsed away. If you cut this potato open, tiny forgotten seeds would lay there staring back at you. These are the tiny pieces of my life that I won't remember for a long, long time, but will inevitably come back to me someday.

My mind is like a potato, it can be peeled and smashed and mashed and fried and cooked and baked, but it will always be there, waiting and ready for my accomplishments and mistakes.

When I think of the trip to beyond, all I seem to remember is those dusty, concrete steps traveling up and up and up, never seeming to stop. Those dusty, concrete steps that led to a giant palace of 10-second doom, where we met... dun dun dun -- Sirhc! I don't know why I should remember only those dusty, concrete steps, leading up to a 10-second doom. Surely there must have been some fluffy, marmallowy slide, swirling into a pool of glee somewhere in the trip to beyond; but memory is a stubborn little girl, doing summersaults in the snow, hyperly running around, not a care in the world. It does not present things as they are, but rather as they feel. And so, when I think of that time and that place, I remember only the dusty, concrete steps heading up to a giant palace of 10-second doom. And one other thing I remember, another incongruency of memory was when we saw Sirhc again, on the dusty, concrete planters, about to leave the beyond -- a broken smile.