5 minutes each.

Marta, you little bastard. Getting me hooked on this writing exercise.

Marta: “Camille darling, it sounds like you have too much stress in your life. You need to take better care of yourself, and while I know Chelsea is making you drink your tea, I have something I want you to do.”
Camille: “And that would be?”
Marta: “Okay, I’m taking this poetry class, and one of the exercises they’re having us do is to take five minutes to write a poem. You can choose any style, any length, it can be whatever you want it to be. They just think it helps get the ‘idea flow’ coming out of our brains. So I want you to write 2 daily. Okay doll?”
Camille: *mutters inaudible curse words under breath* “Oh alright, but just for a while.”
Marta: “Yay! You’re such a good little cookie.”
Camille: “Yeah yeah I know, you gotta love me.”

Okay Marta, here I go..10 minutes…starting…now.

~ ~ ~

Trapped in the dark, down in this well,
it appears to be my personal hell,
and what do these strong men with their ropes and ladders really know?

They think they can save me,
and oh how I want them to try,
but what these strong men don’t see…

..is that theres someone down here,
and they’re holding onto me.

Oh the cold, this damp dark world,
black mud climbs up my ankles,
now to my hips,
and I can feel their bony fingers,
as they pull me down, down by my wrists.

~ ~ ~

Eyes are burning,
limbs are week,
But are you crazy?
Theres no time for sleep!

Rush and run,
cram in some fun,
we’re gonna go crazy, before its all done.

Oh a bed, oh a rest,
oh right now, that sounds the best.
But girl you’re silly, why you’re insane!
Don’t you know, nows the time for pain?

A time for stress,
and nothing less,
beat up your body,
theres no time for rest.

~ ~ ~

Well that was fun.