Write here, write now!

This is the place to write something RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!

Something new to get your creative juices going.

Bit of a poem? Bit of prose? Bit of bizarre?

Doesn't have to be Longfellow, just something new!

I'll try first:

3:00 am.

Whether up early or not yet abed, it’s still 3:00 am.

Witching hour? I object. Dawn or dusk is magic time. Every hour is magic time.

Every hour that I’m living is an hour on my journey home.

Slowly they sometimes pass, but by the gods may they pass slowly!

3:00 am?

Curse you for my wakefulness, the darkest hour!

The dark thoughts loom larger than the shadows.

“Old friend” indeed!

Past regrets. Unfulfilled dreams. The long roads behind.

BACK ye demons of past and present!

3:00 am!

Bless you for my uprising, the darkest hour!

For the inspiring thoughts also loom larger than the shadows.

Old friend, indeed!

Future plans. New dreams to be realized. All possible paths.

WELCOME ye angles for tomorrow!

O’er the dark hour the power of the coming dawn promises all things.

How can I find myself, when I don't know, who to look for?

And when I've found myself, how will I know, that it's me?

words in my head, not in a line

just dropping in randomly

ceiling. tomorrow. heartbeat.

why. later. ok. no, stop.

i try to hold one thought still

it keeps turning into something else

still awake

still here

(aaaa thank you for this space!! i get to work on some stuff to try to flesh out my dnd character!!)

Her muscles tensed. The people she now adventured with had... artifacts that could lead to the end of the world? The death of the Gods? She scanned the faces of her fellow students in the room. They hold not one, but two of the most important artifacts in the realm.

As her gaze moved to each of her party members, she saw the man who couldn't contain his sobbing over a few "innocent" deaths. She saw a bird who lived to shock those around him, who cared not for order and righteousness, but bloodshed. There was a third who was a self-proclaimed "scholar" back for a second degree, mired with guilt of things beyond her purview, who knew nothing of the importance of those objects in their possession, nor the grand scale of good that could be done with them.

She took a breath in, staring forward. Her back was against the wall, standing at attention. The rest of the crew sat around a table. This meeting wasn't for her, nor was it about her, yet her general stood leading it. She knew she could not draw attention to the gravity of the situation. The morally bankrupt characters she called friends would hold those items hostage if they knew the keys' worth. They would see her differently if they knew she knew.

So she stood there, jaw clenched, grip tight on her rifle, listening to them try to negotiate, feigning knowledge about these mystical items. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, and knew she could seize the opportunity soon enough. If she could just play the fool and wait for the right moment...

Bottomless pit of superficiality

Every time you talk, my soul leaves hollow 

Your words are dull, unsharpened and blunt 

An echo chamber that means nothing at all

I try, and try, to catch that squirming mess of flesh

Wriggling in between my fingers, liquid enters the cuts on my palm 

Avoiding it's teeth I slice the head clean

Admire the insides that I was so afraid of before

Only one of millions - yet I still swim

They've invaded my pond, an invasive species 

But I know all too well if I were to drain the water 

I would die

One more struggle

Bleary, wake-up

One more struggle

Arise, damn you

One more struggle

Work. Through futility

One more struggle

Eat. Tasteless survival

One more struggle

Love. Hug family

One more struggle

Rest, cat snuggles

One more struggle

Sleep. Gods please!

Tomorrow

Just one more struggle

What could I do to pursue this on

I know I want to but the water is not clear

You allow me the space to move as I wish

And I watch your movements in turn, with a careful eye

Let's see where the trail leads as we let the grass brush our ankles

This is something new, but sometimes I'm fond of change

The sun rises each day in brand new configurations

And you play in my head on a continuous loop

Mirrors lean forward

like lovers
learning my mouth.

The grin arrives
already worn.

Birdsong goes on
without me,

as if the air
remembered
its body,

as if silence
had skin
and felt me.

(I copied and pasted this from the archive trying to match the vibe in here lol it's been a long writing day for me at work)

funny enough my ttrpg character writes in a journal and sometimes ill read them out when another player inspects his journal and i just finished writing this one, not sure if ill add anything later or not

I think, I am a terrible person. I watch as you connect and grow. As you learn and take steps to be better.. And all on my mind is wishing it were I you cared so much to talk to. Is that not horrible? I should be happy for you, and I am! But yet, I am nothing short of miserable. It hurts me to realize that I only felt important to you when you were broken. I needed you to be miserable to feel like I mattered. I guess I thought if we were broken together you would need me too. But you are getting better, and I am still here. I lay in the pit I continue to dig for myself because I do not know how to climb. And it reminds me of someone. I am starting to fall into his habits, how he thought of me. He was only important to me as a broken version of my conscious. He did anything to keep me. How long until I begin to do the same? How long until I am holding you back in the same manner? I understand why he did it all now. It was not good, but I understand. And I hate that I understand. I hate that I feel BAD for him. That I can sympathize with him. I do not want to become that. This gnawing feeling with the knowing that everything he did, everything he was, has changed me. I am stuck in the grave I dug for him, his name on my tombstone. I do not want to put you through that. I do not want to be that to you. I do not want to be selfish. I do not want to get in your way. But I also want to be something to you. I want to feel invited to be a part of your life. I want to be wanted. I want to feel like I matter. And it feels wrong. It feels rotten. It feels like I am asking too much. I think I am scared that you will find there is someone out there infinitely better than I. Why can I not just be happy for you? Why must I be so.. like HIM? Like ME? All I can think is.. what if I was a real Amurrun? Would I be better then? What if I spoke the language, knew nothing of the modern world, if I shared the life they lived? What if my legs bent backwards, I had whiskers and lost all my feathers? What if I was not broken? What if I was not me?

Whatever. Maybe I am forever cursed to only be able to relate to those that hurt me.