The Painted Lady


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Its Monday

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Regardless of how dim That first light causes me pain Blinded Another day? Already? What a shame. The blankets, like heavy clouds Keep me from rising The cold air outside the covers Something I disdain Its Monday, But oh, how I wish it were Sunday. One more minute One more hour Snooze, ring, snooze One foot down Two feet down On the freezing cold tile Rising from the dead Lamp, light, bed. I look around through crusty eyes Is this my life? Routine Walk, bathroom, closet Do I even know where to begin? An avalanche of clothes fall As the doors pry apart Mocking Mind clouded by the wish of sleep Oh what I’d do for one more wink.
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The Writting Process

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Usually, when I am going to begin writing for a certain purpose, say an assignment, an essay, a report, or some sort of official document, I begin by brainstorming on paper, with no general direction. I think of what it is that I am supposed to address and just make lists of words and phrases as they come, or organize the progression if it’s something that has to be in a particular order. Once I feel confident that I’ve written down more than enough content to expand upon when I sit down to write, I go ahead and use that as a sort of guideline for what I type up. If the writing is an assignment, for me, I feel I can do that at any particular time, however if the writing is personal or emotional, I am usually inclined to write while I am alone, in a comfortable space or surrounded by the comfort of nature, particularly the ocean.             When writing from a point of emotion or a personal entry, I often write in a journal ded...
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