When I

When I see you, I stare at your eyes intently
When I hear your voice, my stomach flies away.
When I’m near you, tingles run up my spine
When I’m sad, you make me laugh anyway
When I’m lost, you help me through
When I’m scared, you are my shelter
When I’m with you, time seems to pass so quickly
When I read your words, things seem to get much better
When I met you, I knew there was something different

Just a Front for Pain

I fail to see no one tells I’m imploding!
It hurts to be the one that’s eroding!
Many think I am smoother, colder, harder than marble!
I’m slowly cracking, burning, churning like charcoal!
Don’t think I am invincible!
Don’t think I am invisible!
My heart is easy to break!
My mind is easy to sway!
I could scream!
I will cry!
This smile is a foolish lie!

I Know Your Pain

I saw what you were going to say, when I looked into your eyes. I saw the pain and hurting underneath the disguise. You glance at me and I see that you’ve built up a wall. I know that the feelings that you have are hard to retain, but I know… I know what it’s like to have that mask. And when it’s bottled inside…It tears you apart. When for some reason it is hard to hide, you walk away from everyone dear to you!

I need to remind you that I’m here for you. You don’t need to build a wall; you don’t need to fear what I think of you. I will always love you just the way you are, but you can’t just turn away. The listless flames that burn my heart, when you drove the spear through me, I cast it aside, when the pain subsides. I just want to let you know I’ll be there, even when you’re speechless, even when everyone turns away. Even if we hardly speak at times, I want you to know I will be there.

Please open your heart to me; please tell me your pains and needs. You know I’ll keep everything a secret if you want me to. Have I ever told a soul about your pains before? When have you heard from someone, that it is I who they heard about you from? You know I’m there if you just want to talk, or just need a friend who’ll listen. I’ll be strong for you. I’ll help you through.

A Writer's Problem

A young boy walked into a large darkened round room, a dome, made of a pale grey stone. From small cracks in the room crept little light. From the center of the ceiling, a poorly lit lamp hung, swinging, casting odd shadows around the room, yet the boy could see everything. A circular table was placed in the center of this room; the table had no centre, just a hole. Sitting at this table were men: middle aged men, others fairly young, but not quite so as the boy who entered the room, and finally men who seemed of wiser standard with white and grey long beards.
The boy held a notebook in his left hand and a pencil in the other. No sound was heard till the young boy made his place at the table.
“The boy, he looks confused, I shall help” One man said; his face crinkled up like a prune when he grinned. He had no beard, but rather– he looked like the funny character, Popeye. “You need to convince the audience; yes, show emotion in that pen. Show them your point!” He gave elaborate gestures as he spoke.
Another man, a tall skinny man with a pointed long nose, added his voice. “But How? I will tell you. Facts! Give it plain and straight!” His hand slammed the table as he leaned forward.
“No! No! No! You have it all wrong!” Another voice added; it was a younger man; his hair was thick and black upon his head, his face was cleaned shaved, and a well defined jaw. “Inspire their imagination! Use mythical creatures… or mythical places! Yes! Make it unique!!”
A bearded man jumped in; his beard drooped across the table, falling to the other side. If he stood, his bear would have dropped two inches past his feet “You don’t need a point to make. Just to enjoy”
“No! A point must be made! It’s useless otherwise!”
“Give them imagination!”
“No! Facts!! Tell it the way it is!”
“No! No point!”
The room was accumulated by shouting and arguing. The boy covered his ears and left the room, leaving the paper and pencil on the table, even then, the pencil rolled to the middle of the table where the large hole existed, and it disappeared.

Next

“Next!” A voice called out from the other room.
A girl stood, her arms held a book she had been reading. Her eyes strolled the floor as she placed her steps; and many times she gazed at her black flat shoes. She turned her gaze to the slightly opened door, slipping in to the office. The door gently opened, without a sound. A man with black hair, combed so finely back, sat behind a large desk in a large rolling chair, leather was its fragrance. On the other side of the desk, from which the girl stood, were two chairs, both hard and cold, with the fragrance of coins and copper. The man signaled her to sit in one of the two chairs. She chose the right chair, nearest to the window. He made note. She placed the book on her lap and waited for a long while before the man spoke.
“What is your name, girl?” The man asked sharply, it didn’t quite sound like a question.
“It’s there sir, on the paper” Her voice said, frightened, yet soft in tone. “Hannah, it was my grandmother’s name as well.”
“When I ask for your name, you give me your name, nothing else.” He stated in a course tone, “And speak up! I can hardly hear you!”
“Yes sir…”She said cringing in the chair.
“Sit up! Kids! You do not know how to sit!” He said sternly.
She sat up quickly back in the chair. “Sorry sir.”
He again made note in a brown book. “Girl, why did you choose that chair, the one you are sitting at?”
She cocked her head, “I guess… I don’t know, sir. I guess it was the sun, it was in the sun sir.”
“You thought it would not be quite as cold. And stop saying ‘I guess’ and ‘I don’t know’, that is degrading your confidence! Stay quiet till you have your answer!” He declared. “Now, why do you stare at the floor?”
“…”She stayed quiet for a long while.
“If you do not have an answer soon enough, you will lose a person’s attention! If you do not have an answer state plainly, ‘I do not have an answer.’!”
“Sorry sir. I have no where else to look, I gue– sir”
“You have in front of you to look, if you do not look where you are going you will most like bump into someone!”
“Sorry sir.”
“Now, the final question, why?”
“Why, sir?”
“Do not procrastinate! You know the ‘why’, now answer it!”
“…I do not have an answer, sir.”
“You may leave now.” He signaled her off.
“Yes sir.” She stood and left the room, clutching to her book, trying not to hasten but it seemed that she did.
Then the man called out from the room once again, “Next!”

The Elevator

A man entered a building, heading a bee line to the elevator. As he entered, he notices another man, a technician, finishing up on mechanical work with the commands of the elevator. He took another look at this blue collared man as he stepped out: A suspicious character he was. The technician tilted his hat forward to hide his face and hunched his shoulders forward as he hastened away. The white collared man shrugged at the other’s behavior and entered the elevator. As usual, he pressed button number six which will lead him to his office, on, obviously, the sixth floor.

The command didn’t register, so he pressed it again. “I thought he was supposed to be fixing this elevator, not ruining it.” The man mumbled to himself. The third time he pressed it, it succeeded in listening. The elevator eased its doors shut, then made its way up. After a considerable way up, the elevator suddenly stopped.

The man, almost distraught, pressed the red button, used for assistance, in instances such as this one. As soon as he did so, a ticking noise began. The ticking was continuous, and strong, yet slow. The man, troubled by the unusual noise, retraced suspicious character in his mind:

The technician tilted his hat forward to hide his face and hunched his shoulders forward as he hastened away.

“That man put a bomb in the elevator!” The man shouted. “Help! Help! I’m trapped!” He slammed his fists against the wall hard and repeated his yell several times. After about ten minutes of his yelling, he stopped and revised his thinking. “They can’t hear me; I must find another way out…” He stared up to the ceiling but he saw no exit. “What happened to this elevator?” He muttered under his breath.

As he conjured his thoughts together, the ticking noise pierced into his mind like a sanctimonious tone. Every word was thought with each tick. “There… must… be… a… way…out… of…here…” Soon, his mind snapped out of the trance. “What am I doing?” Each tick was noted in his mind as each second passed, as his trance repeated every minute; each minute getting harder to snap out. “I… must… stop… the… bomb…” He pressed his fingers to the ever so thin cracks, where the line of buttons gazed. Each button blinked in perfect sync with the ever so entrancing tick.

He pealed the metal off, to now look upon the wiring inside. There were small wires of different colors: red, green, blue, yellow, black, white, orange, and silver. It was complicated as the wires intertwined in the system. “Great… mo…ther…board… of… a… ma…chine…” His hands trembled violently as his fear overtook him. He dropped the metal cover he had confiscated. It clinked against the floor twice: first on its narrow side, then facing flat down. It too fell in sync with the tick. He shot out of the trance as he spoke his next words. “Is there any abnormal wires in this thing?”

He traced his fingers over the wires, discovering a yellow wire with black stripes. “This must be the one”
He hands trembling grabbed the wired and yank it out. “Noth…ing…Hap…pened…”
After the words came from his mouth the elevator shot two floors down. The man flew into the air and pressed the back of his hands against the ceiling to prevent radical injury. The elevator jerked to a stop slamming the man back down; his hands and face stung after impact. His eyes blurred. Soon he regained sight and stature. “I won’t do that again.” He remarked wincing. He silenced himself and waited for the ringing in his head to cease before continuing his escape. He had not impeded the ticking.
Before too long, the man began pondering, once again, on a way out. He scanned the room again, noticing the carpet on the floor pealing at one corner. He knelt down and encouraged the carpet to unreal. He discerned wood-paneling underneath. Once he removed the entire carpet he began tearing the paneling off with the metal cover, jamming it into the crevices.

After the wooding was removed he discovered his work turned in vain. It was all concrete. No exit. He fell to his knees and tore at his hair; rushing tears came from his eyes. “I’ve… gone…. mad!” He curled himself against his legs and began rocking back and forth. He rocked with each tick.

He did not know how long he was stuck in there, but for the life of him, it felt like hours… or days.
Suddenly, a banging came from the door. “Is there anyone in there?”
The man glared up and rushed against the door, crying out. “Yes! Yes! I’m… Trapped! Get… me… out!”
No response came. “I’m… in… here! Get… me… out!” He snapped out of the trance one again, “Get me out of this accursed elevator!”
He once more waited for a response, but none came. The man slammed his fists against the door; he hit his head and rested it on the wall. “I…I… can’t stay…here…much…longer…”
He collapsed and stared at the swirling ceiling above him. He heaved his breathing as he tried to stay conscious. “I… want… to… die....” His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his vision faded. He fainted.


He awoke, not know how long the time had passed; now the ticking switched into a beeping in intervals twice as fast the ticking. He slammed his fists into the ground; tears shed from the corners of his eyes. “I am going to die!” He rolled to his side and curled his legs into his chest.
There was a sudden banging at the door. “We are going to get you out!” A muzzled shout came from the other side of the door.
The man did not respond. He just mumbled to him self, “Tick…Tick… Tick… Tick…” Repeatedly he said those words.
The doors opened. Men in red, yellow, and white suits pull the half dazed man out.
“You’re going to be OK.” One of the men stated as they placed the man on the stretcher and an oxygen mask over his face.
The man, bawling, still heard the sanctimonious tick, even as he left the taunting elevator.