(working on book)

-a She smiled from the table across from me, and I almost just gaffawed. She's looking at ME? He bowed graciously from the side of the table, mouthing, "I'm not worthy." When he looked back up, she was giving him a black stare. Her perfectly lined eyes were eminating their thick mascara hatred right at him. He could almost feel the room heat up. But then her purple eyes fell back down to the paper and followed her hand as it jotted down her unspoken conversation. Many people's handwritting, especially teenagers, were especially sloppy, usually chicken scratches. But her hand writing was like caligraphy, true art. She turned the paper to the right a bit as she wrote, laying a hand down to keep it from moving. Even if it was just a note, he could tell she was a very languid person, using a very smart vocabulary like Irk, or perogative. Smart words like that.

8 to 10 (So I forgot)

"Life is like a tightrope; as long as you have a secure rope, no stick could ever give you more balance." -NN
-a But as the air around her as she walks this tightrope is missled by the stix, bruizing her arms,
enclosing her in a forest of brown and hitting the ground like a manical drumbeat...
pillows of white float in their leave, cotton snowing down like feathers, healing her purples and blues, and only when the stix stop falling could she gasp for a breath of air;
toxic, poisonous... and lovely.
-b Cotton snowing from the clouds,
whites and blacks as the grey sunset with all its radiance pierces the screen,
The inscents of sickly sweet, like candy, as they pass by 4th avenue.
Now, if only she could find her blanket; The grass is cold and damp,
And no one is here to keep the rain from drenching her in those black tears of theirs.
-c So should i walk away, knowing nothing can be done?
The fire is burning, spitting ashes out at me, hoping to catch on to my cloak;
all I hears is the crackling of embers as the sky bleeds black tears,
the moon, only absense to the shadows, the only light spare the fire and the stars falling to mourn, as if they know why she cries.
-d And so as she sinks down to the shade, and he is there to catch her,
she feels that she will be alright, that the night's stars can save her once again;
but knowing isn't everything, she knows that, she sees it under her,
and so as her tightrope under her breaks and snaps, twigs not being strong enough,
a mattress of pillows clump under her form, so her purples and blues can be no more.
-e She falls into the pillows, being enclosed in the sweet smell,
the soft and warm embrace she missed after all this time, missed so truly;
turning into the warmth, she smiles, the feeling alien to her,
for too long has she missed out, for too long she has been away,
but now is here to stay. -e5 -NN