Offensive

The music fell from the instruments wood, offensive and defiant. Fingers flew in rhythms they shouldn't, climbed and jumped to places they couldn't go.  The ones listening cry in defiance, disrupting the noise.  The musician plays on, chords crying to be left alone pleading with him telling him his this audience wasn't ready to hear. They would never be ready to hear. The musician hit the notes harder drowning out their cries, washing over the rebelling audience.  'You will listen' his playing holds authority but people are wild and hard to tame, so the chords ring past their ears, eyes, and heart, and though the musicians heart cries through the whining chords it is never heard, and never understood.  And just as the audience has left his heart flees as well.

Rapid Write

I can't think about anything today, my mind's in a bind.  The little workers in my mind decided to build a dam instead of organize my files today.  If I could punish them, I would.  All my teachers will be dissapointed in me because of them.  Luckily they've only finished half the dam, I can tell because I can still do my math homework.  Just don't ask me to be creative today.  The workers in my head musst be tired of creativity because they blocked it off good.  After all their work they are lazing about in my head like heavy cows.  My mind is about to shut down and go to sleep with them.