  Good evening,  mortal beings.  It just so happens that car permits go on sale tomorrow at school which means hell trying to get one,  the f* ing line will be stacked up to the outside of the room and it is a big room,  allow me to assure you.  Alanna was absent today because of some damn virus thingie and it was upsetting because Alanna is a vital part of the little group that coheres during C lunch.  It sucks already that Robin and Elise are separated by being in A lunch and Laylee is in B lunch.  My schedule hates me,  it wishes to murder me softly.  Elise wrote this wonderous but quite upsetting " scene,  if you will,  a concept that she thought of from the opinion of a third person observer.
 It is utterly beautiful,  I assure you,  but do not read it is you disturb easily from emotional content.  This thing is packed to the brim with imagery and poetry.  You may see it at urlLink Crash by Lise .  In addition,  I wrote a type of thought stream in response to it.  I would not have posted it anywhere but I was tormented by Alanna and urged by Elise so I posted it on urlLink A Dream of You and here.
 Heart Strain An emotion of fear unexplainable infiltrates the cavity where my heart used to beat in a monotonous repetition,  your voice is high and happy and excited somehow even as you are explaining your own death to me when it happened on the corner and I ran to your bloodstained body as it drained of life on the concrete,  horrified to see even in my mind the image of you thrown from the tangled wreck of tin and aluminum,  a red ink seeping from your arms,  your stomach,  your eyes,  your lips twisting in unaccountable pain and a calmer smile in sleep,  sleeping when the siren is wailing right around the corner,  sleeping in a birth paradox,  my fingers are stiff with fear gripping the cold plastic of a cell phone like a lifeline when I reach for the hand palm- upwards in a puddle of rainwater,  and who gives a damn if I don't have the black umbrella,  I need to protect her body from the crystals that fall from the clouds that might,
 just might be so precise as to release a more spiritual energy back into her cold body,  her shivering body -  oh God -  it's not shivering anymore and the phone is just plastic and unfeeling when I grab her hand and hold it to my chest,  driving the tiny shards of glass deeper and deeper into my bloodstream,  let them poison my heart so I can accompany her like a guardsman sentinel of a goddess angel when she is slipping into the sleep she wants I want we want but it's not her life,
 it's just the dial tone and I have the urge to kiss you on the forehead,  on the hand,  on the lips to assure you are still walking with me.  Assuredly,  it is rather odd because it is so very different.  I swear,  my " style"  of poetry/ writing has evolved,
 if you will,
 so very much in the past few weeks.  That is all.  A few weeks.  And it is already so very different.  Not the style that is most widely accepted,  but nonetheless,  I think,  effective.  I bid thee humans a lovely evening.  Everyone should try to meditate tonight.  It is most enjoyable.
