"Dialogue" Don't use pick up lines on blonde chicks at McDonald's

Me: Hey, excuse me.  What's your name?

Her: It's Ellie.
Me: Really? It seems like it should be Gillette or something...?
Her: (confused) whhaatt??
Me: Because you look like the best a man can get :)       (feeling all clever)

Her: That doesn't even make sense? (blank look) (she is blonde)
Me: You haven't seen that commercial? You know...  Gillette..  the best a man can get.  It's a shaving thing..
Her: You're a freak.  (leaves with a look of disgust)

Cut

Behind my back and under the table

Power in your hands, mind unstable

You hurt and ruin a player's purpose

Now your faults have come to surface

You crossed out my name in every note

A hemorrhage of ink in glistening coats

My blood and sweat all gone to waste

If you're going to steal, atleast have good taste

You raised me up and cut me down

Kicked me across the painted ground

The pain you caused aches down deep

The living hell when I can't sleep

The lacerations have left horrible scars

Anger clings in tissue against my heavy heart

I'm tired of hurting so I keep my doors shut

Your words and actions are like razors that cut

I dub thee, unsittable

Pop Tarts

1. Remove pastry from pouch.

OK, that just pisses me off

You'll See

I'm  here again.  The fans are whirling.  Metal is clanking.  I rub on icy hot.  It makes my muscles feel warm  and supple when really they are tight and sore.  Deep breath.  5 sets of 5.  My legs shake under me.  The veins in my temples ripple and a single bead of  sweat rolls down the side of my face.  I put my hands on my knees and try to gather myself.  I look at the shelves of weights.  They are old and beat up.  They stare back at me ominously.  It's like they know I'm  tired and they are waiting to finish me off.  Chains rattle and pulleys tug on giant bricks of metal.  These torture machines are so cruelly designed to make you hurt.  I run and after I'm  standing in a puddle of sweat it fills like the ground is still moving.  My legs quiver and my arms weight 1000 pounds.  My heart pounds in my chest.  doubts flutter around in my throbbing head.  "I'd love to put you in, but I'd like to win"  "You're a good player, but not a great one"  "Maybe if  you work hard at practice you can play JV"  "You run too choppy" "You're too small"  "pick up garbage under the bleachers"  you ask "what are you still doing? Why are you still trying?" and I'll say "You'll see"

Behind Bars

Emotionally fate will determine my thoughts.  Deadlocked.
The process.  Life in prison.  The Law. Survive.

The Library

The Library conditions captured Madison Marshall at the tower.
Vices, Virtues, Devil's clocks and a ghostly story.
Friends of the Library judging prizes to give people a chance.
Don't think.  This promises to be a witches maze.

Trip Down Memory Lane

I remember my dinosaur overalls and bull cut.  I remember when I fell down and my head was mistaken for a soccer ball; lost my first tooth.  I remember being on timeout in the mud room.  I remember when I drank windex and got to go to the hospital.  I remember our unfinished basement and how scary it was.  I remember the worlds I created in the sandbox.  I remember the birthday were all I got was Star Wars action figures.  I remember when swear words made me cry.  I remember when I stepped on the hornets nest after I said "I've never been stung."  I remember when a spider came out of my handle bars and I ran my bike into a car.  I remember the bike jumps I made in the field by my house. 

Running on Fumes

I'm tired and weak
There is no strength when I speak
I'm sore from explaining myself
Explaining my story to those who don't even care
Since when are you the judge to tell me whats fair?
I'm downtrodden
A victim of injustice most bleak
I'm a knocked over sign on a dangerous street
I'm a heavy car running on fumes