She is just a girl.

Inspiration lingers upon my finger tips. Eager to burst forth in language, rhymes and all sorts of tails. Mounds of dreaming remain mute in my mind.

A girl. She lives. Two siblings.

So much drifting on a memory............................................................why can't my thoughts be focused.

I read books, I hear songs, my eyes trail over lyrics..my heart skips at the voice of Woolf..poetry sinks in my veins...I love words.

Why can I not create what I enjoy?

Stifled and unwhole. Ideas..not plots...characteristics and not characters.

I crave to write..but I lack substance. A gallery of pretty words..spotlighted..framed...beautiful....with no meaning. Like a pretty face.

So much and an empty page.

Schools may change within the month. Scary thoughts.

Opening Night

The Underpants

No draped curtain will rise...but the lights will fall.

Out steps Theo and Louise.

Shadowed audience and living art, twirling upon the lowered stage, playing to the substance shadows in the plush crimson seats.

An affair...a smile...a kiss...a stripping down in pink light......

with faculty and all.

Do not hate me for what I do. I am merely a player..taking direction...mocking the script...re-creating myself upon the stage.

It is opening night.

And I am Louise..little louise..who losses her panties.