Addict by MNT

I'm addicted to the glitter.
I'm addicted to the lights.
I'm addicted to the positions.
I'm addicted to the fight.
I'm addicted to the feeling of all eyes on you.
I'm addicted to what I can do in my shoes.
I'm addicted to the sounds that come from my feet.
I'm addicted to the life that forms in the beat.
I'm an addict, just like any other.
I'm addicted to the stage.
So much it makes me shudder.

My Imagination

In my sand box, a big wave comes and washes things away.
All that's left is a shiny new day.
But to my utter dismay,
A pirate ship has come my way.
Boom, cannons fire.
I hide in the choir.
The choir?
I can't even sing.
No matter!
I'll just think up a new thing.
A ring!
No, quite wrong.
Instead...well, I'll think of something.
Perhaps to fly.
It's much much nicer than those pirates.
I'll fly away to Peppermint Bay!
Until tomorrow, I suppose.
Good thoughts your way!




Author's Note: Good gosh, I HAVE gone crazy! Haha, no this was just a quick thing in my mind I thought I'd write down. Plus, I haven't blogged in quite a while now that school's back in swing. It may be because I have been have a little battle with something, I'm sure some of you have it. When I'll type or write letters and numbers, they come out a bit differently in my head. In fact, I had to re-type a lot of this post, much like I always do. And I struggle with math homework now because from bringing an answer from my scratchbook to the actual work, I'll switch my thoughts around and put the answer down as a different number. It's very hard to explain. My head just doesn't cooperate with math. It's more of a...well, you read the poem up there;). I love you and thanks for your time. Follow me, dear. I'm in desperate need of followers.

Much Love,
MNT

Paranormal Tales

I can't help but be interested in paranormal entertainment, where ever it may be. On the television, through stories, or just the thought. But as I watch yet another paranormal program on the T.V, it's become a bit ridiculous. The deep-voiced narrator tells the story of a ghost named Lilly who was born and died in an asylum. The narrator tries to spice up the story using terrible words to scare you even more when in fact, I'm sure this Ghost of Lilly is much less of a fright than he says. I believe it best to leave certain spirits alone. They don't belong here. I hope that all ghost can eventually pass because if it were I, I certainly would not wish to be here on earth when i die (knock on wood). Still, I can't help but be fascinated by these eerie yet some-what fiction stories. Then again, they might only feel fiction.

Times Broken!

It's almost funny how, for such a bold personality, how gently he handles my hand.
I can't picture life next year without... love.
I suppose that's a bit melodramatic.
But still, it will never be the same.
And to think for past yester-years, I wasted time.
No the hourglass is running out of sand.
As I look at the clock, the hands spin faster and faster until they tangle together.
Oh no! Times broken!