Poetry comes in the night 🌙✍✒ Art by @artofawitch #latenightwrite #thewritingdesk #crapwriting (at Bronx, NY) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSLZl3vr6s85POyTuTma29PdP_V567v7wbeW0s0/?utm_medium=tumblr

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Poetry comes in the night 🌙✍✒ Art by @artofawitch #latenightwrite #thewritingdesk #crapwriting (at Bronx, NY) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSLZl3vr6s85POyTuTma29PdP_V567v7wbeW0s0/?utm_medium=tumblr
KojiYuu (request)
“Passed out again.” Yuko muttered to herself.
She had pondered in most cases that bringing her friend into the apartment had given her more trouble than it was expected. Yuko wondered how she came home or even Haruna arriving at her place in one piece. Walking out of the apartment she noted the group of photographers corralled at the gate. She turned the corner swiftly to the elevator down to the basement where she had her car parked and headed out to work.
In college, she found someone who was friendly yet a bit dense in most cases would pass the classes. Yuko wondered if it was her stature or being smart when it came to tests had given her a false sense of security with the world around her. She knew of Haruna getting offers to model for the school and then headed out on an amateur contract which coming into top five had gave her a chance to become a premier model.
After school, she had gone to do the photoshoots while Yuko had taken a job at a financial firm as an assistant before working up to an analyst. It was the one occasion where she would have drinks with her colleagues that she had seen Haruna across the room with other people. Yuko fought through the security when the woman had seen her friend, giving only a greeting before retreating from the group.
A few months later, Haruna had decided to move into the apartment building where Yuko was staying at and asked to consider coming into her apartment. The shared cost was a little less however it was problematic with the location that Haruna had sold hers upon agreeing into moving into Yuko’s area with the space considered abandoned when she took the lease and became Haruna’s side.
Taking the short drive, Yuko zoomed past the group and sharply turned right with the phone ringing. She saw the name and pressed the screen to get to the bluetooth and snapped it onto her ear.
“Hello!” She greeted.
“Ah Oshima, you coming in?” The voice asked.
“Yes, Hashimoto. Is the boss waiting for me?” Yuko pondered.
“No! He’s sleeping and the board is coming in an hour. We have nothing set up.” Hashimoto shrilled.
“I’ll be there.”
She stepped on the pedal and took to the freeway, veering away from the usual morning routine to the office. Yuko didn’t bothered the other woman who was on the couch. The short drive over brought her into the district where she entered the building and parked her car in the lot where the supervisors would go, placing a placard in the case of emergencies and got to the elevator where a slender man stood.
“Hashimoto. Were you waiting long?” Yuko asked, pressing the button.
“No! Just going to say I’m glad you’re here. Without the boss… it’ll be hard to convince them of anything.” He sighed.
Taking the ride to the floor, she noted the few people running around as she was escorted to the boardroom where the papers were scattered. Yuko got to organizing the papers when she heard the ringtone and pressed the button to the earpiece.
“Hello?” She greeted.
“Where did you go?” The voice screeched.
“I have to work Haruna.” Yuko answered sternly.
“Please come back home.” She moaned.
“Sorry… not now.”
Pressing the ear piece, she pulled it out and sorted the rest into a pile. Yuko placed the stack to the side to be copied and mended for the meeting before walking briskly over to the office as a body lying upon the floor with a tie wrapped around his head and opening the eyes swiftly.
“Good job avoiding the meeting.” She grunted.
“I wasn’t going to avoid it. I needed some sleep. Other than that I had a date with a model.” He laughed. “Something to the effect that she is trying to find love. She wasn’t being firm with her answers however after a few drinks, she left to go to a friend’s house. I begged her to stay until she gave her number.”
“Did you call her?” Yuko asked.
“No! It was your number.” He snarled as she sat up. “How did she get your number?”
“How did you know it was my number?” She exhaled.
“I dialed it and your name came up. How did you get to be friends with… what was her name?” He smiled forcefully.
“Since you’re here. You can run the meeting.” Yuko bowed. “I need to go home.”
Rushing out from the office, she took out the phone to find a missed call. Assuming it was the time she had come home, Yuko knew an hour prior to the meeting would give her enough time to consolidate her thoughts from the situation as a voice echoed in the hallway when she saw a figure bulling through the workers. Yuko stepped forward when she saw through the crowd the silhouette.
“Yuko!” The voice greeted.
“Haruna… what are you doing here?” Yuko asked.
“I… I have to think about it.” Haruna bit her lip. “I was thinking you would be home for the day.”
“I still have to come into work.” Yuko said softly.
“No! That guy promised me.” Haruna pointed as Yuko swayed her eyes over.
The whirlwind seemed hard to stop when she placed everything together from what had happened. Haruna had her quirks yet there was always a problem when it came to communication and sighed as she grabbed Haruna’s hand. Dragging her out, Hashimoto bowed to her before taking her to the elevator to take the ride down.
“Why?” Yuko muttered.
“Well… I was thinking you could get a day off.” Haruna smiled.
“Now I do… so I guess we can go shopping.” Yuko sighed.
“That would be fun. Lots of shopping.” Haruna grinned when Yuko shook her head.
“To make up for this, I have to consider what made you go for my boss.” Yuko pondered when the doors opened.
“Simple. Easier to grab when thy’re single.” She spat when Yuko pointed to the car.
“Don’t do it again.”
Monster under the bed
Trying to be honest but if we are to be completely real. I am afraid scared like a child that you are the monster that lives under my dark bed. The one who knows my secrets the secrets i refuse to let anyone know
Bite
Telan sighed, hand plastered to his forehead in both annoyance and exhaustion. Below the bed he had just collapsed on was the persistent hissing of the... little charm-hydra that had presented itself in his bag just that morning after returning to Silvermoon from the Outlands. The elf rolled onto his stomach, wincing as he slipped his hands under his pillow. No matter how many times he healed them, and his ankles for that matter, that damned monster always managed to find a way to sneak-up and bite him again.
He rubbed his face into his bed, listening to the clatter of the hydra's claws, and it's constant moving around- before it finally made it's way under his bed to rest.
About time.
Sitting up quietly, as to not alert the critter- he stretched an arm out, reaching for a paper and one of the writing utensils he kept on the bed-stand. He pulled the two items over, then glanced around once more- at least until he determined he was just going to have to write on his lap, considering whatever book he could have used is across the inn room. He'd rather not get bit.
He hadn't written in a long time, and he didn't think he'd have to. But he needed a way to tell Duroxas that he should probably take that thing back to wherever he found that charm.
The sudden burst of hissing and clawing at the stone made him snap out of whatever he was writing- and tear the utensil straight into the paper. Both hands dropped what they had and lifted up to run through his hair in annoyance.
"C-come on.."
my love for you is
brighter than the shining sun,
and innumerable to the to the amount of stars in the sky.
it is as deep as the ocean itself,
and higher than any bird could fly.
for you, because of you,
my heart will be a bowl filled with love,
and not a drop will spill.
no matter the shaking of the earth,
the billowing of the wind
nor the anger of the sea.
my love for you is unending,
and not a drop will spill.
i love
to wake up
beside you,
and kiss
the corners
of your mouth
good morning.
to nestle
in the crook
of your arm,
and every morning,
in my own way,
try to explain
the depths of my feelings
and fail.
but tomorrow i will try again,
and twenty years from now
i will still try.
because i love
the way you awake
when i kiss
the corners of your mouth
Somewhere
Along the way, I changed.
I couldn't tell you An exact date or time. Or what the situation Had been, I cant even tell you In what ways I changed.
But I did.
I notice it in the way People react to me. The things that they say, The things that they don't.
Sometimes, I struggle with the idea That my changes have had a Negative reaction on my life. And are the reason for my feelings Of alienation and discomfort.
Floundering Bazelon
Anthony Kennedy, the swing justice whose vote is so crucial that the courtroom became absolutely silent each time he opened his mouth, doesn’t like this case, Hollingsworth v. Perry, any more, if he ever did.
--Emily Bazelon, Slate
This is the second sentence and the first wasn't a smooth ride either. I read this one several times. Sure, this bit--"any more, if he ever did"--is awkward but it also doesn't make any sense. How would anyone know if a Supreme Court justice "liked" a case yet to be decided? Well, apparently it can be inferred from the questions he asked during yesterday's arguments but Bazelon doesn't know enough to tell us that first.
But "any more" suggests--Oh, I don't t know--that he told someone at a cocktail party that he liked Hollingsworth. But then there's "if he ever did." No one every assumed he did. It's just stupid. As though she didn't even glance at the copy after she finished it.
I didn't continue all the way through this article. But I can't help but notice that Emily Bazelon has recently written a book on bullying (of children, I suppose) because it's been reviewed by several reputable pubs. Surely, anyone that has come across her writing on Slate would know enough to avoid a book by her. As has sometimes been pointed out by Slate commenters, she is well connected as the granddaughter of a famous judge, David Bazelon, so perhaps that explains the extensive coverage. She belongs to the affluent Mommy blogger school when she isn't filling in for Slate's other Supreme Court writer, so perhaps she isn't paid.
A few more sentences farther along: "But then he continued with vexation". God in heaven, is there a simpler way to say that? And you just know that she doesn't know there's a difference between "floundered" and "foundered."