Late Night Garbage

White lace flowers shimmer,
back and forth they float before me.
Whispering, always whispering.
A lonesome owl calls out in the distance,
chasing the moon until the sun begins to rise.
Up into the sky, bringing forth life.
Day is for the living,
night is for the dead.

Melting away

The heavy vehicle thundered along the road which had been riveted by trucks animals and the long winter months. Now in mid spring the road was finally dry enough to travel and it would no longer take an hour to check the live stock.

The large hoard was nestled in a small valley about ten minutes drive from the farm house. The young woman behind the wheel studied the countryside as she drove slowly. The winter had been good for them and the trees were starting to flourish with wild flowers. The colors were truly magnificent and it seemed as if it were untouched by humans except for the road and the loud diesel that thundered through the hills.

When she reached the peak she stole a quick glance behind her at the town safely nestled in the wilderness and sighed heavily.

"Why can't it be spring all year round?"

The 4wd bounced down the hill and came to the valley. The grass was the brightest green that nature could provide and the shade from the surrounding gums made it cool and inviting. She stopped the car and opened the back pulling out a large bail of hay and let it fall on the ground with a soft thud. The cows off in  the distance looked at her docilely  they didn't seem particularly interested in what she was offering. Not when they had the luscious bounty that nature had provided them. But she liked to make sure they would not go hungry.

Leaving the truck she walked to the centre of the valley where a large stream flowed and taking off her clothes dived into the water. It was cool and felt nice against her warm skin and she let out a gasp as she broke the surface.

A happy calf bellowed at her as it munched on her offering. Now content she floated in the water letting the sun warm her and her worries melt away. For a while she was in paradise.

Dark Thoughts

Dark thoughts of mayhem breed quickly within my mind 
The imagery circles like hungry buzzards over a fresh carcass 
Hysteria, my old friend, paints the world in ruin 
Religion swells with the corporate disease, there is nothing left sacred 
And Death, well, Death resides on every doorstep

The Ocean

I lay in bed

The waves wash over me

I’m drowning

Deep in the cool dark water

“We all live down here,”

They whisper to me

“We live and breathe and love.”

Their bodies shimmer

I reach out to them

They shrink away

My ugly, bold fingers float out before me

They stretch to reach

But grasp hold of nothing

I float, I sink

I’m alone,

Surrounded by shimmering lights

I lie on the sand bank

My body slowly dies

I hear their voices

They call for me

Their bodies are close,

But their voices are on some distant shore.

“Come with us,” they gently sing.

“We will love you

We will teach you

To breathe, to love, to live.”

I close my eyes

Their lilting chanting fills my ears

I feel myself slowly wash away

My body dissolves

I am part of the ocean

My arms stretch wide

I touch each shore

My body rolls and bubbles

With the ripping pulling of the tide

I am happy now

I feel safe.

Dream Princess

Cheap bright lipstick smeared across her pasty thin face,

Teeth rotting, the stench follows her words,

Uneducated and ugly,

What other choice did she have in this world?

Parading on the corner, like a peacock on show

She's working tonight, and waiting

Dreams of a glamorous life have flown away

Self respect forgotten for a buck

“Wanna fuck?” She leers at people passing

No longer seeing them as people

In her mind they're all the same

They all bleed her dry

Emotionless sexual encounters fill her nights,

As dawn comes and the rising sun bathes the city in a golden light

She retreats

Her fix must be got

As the needle hits the vein

The world dissolves around her

Smiling she sleeps in her filthy bed

Dreaming of the princess she never was

Never given the chance to get somewhere, to escape

Life, an endless battle which culminates in death

Death, the sweetest relief

The ultimate drug

Getting ready and into it!

Think about the ways you write, not your style but how you sit, where and what your surroundings are. Are you at a desk, sitting on your bed, or maybe you're at the kitchen table? There are so many different ways in which you could write, and finding what is right for you is key to your success as a writer.

Get Comfortable

If your sitting in an uncomfortable position you wont be able to write for an extended period. Find what works for you and go for it. Getting too comfortable can be a drawback as well. If you are anything like me, daydreaming and comfort equals sleep. So make sure you're sitting up. I suggest sitting at a desk, in a comfortable chair. 

Settle In

Take everything you could possibly need and arrange it around you. I usually take a jug of water, some snacks and a dictionary/thesaurus. This way the only reason for you to leave the desk is for the toilet, or other important reasons. The aim is to limit your reasons for leaving the desk. 

Limit Your Distractions

Turn off the TV, put the phone away and even disconnect the internet. You want to be able to focus everything on the task at hand. Even the smallest of distractions can break your rhythm, once it's broken, it can be really hard to get back into it. So remain focused and remove those distractions before they become a problem.

Stuck?

If you get stuck, don't be afraid to take a break. Go for a walk, listen to some music, bounce idea's off of a friend. Don't just sit there and stare at the screen, that wont help at all. Take a break, even for just five minutes, come back to it and read over everything you have written. You will probably pick up on a few editing mistakes, and with any luck feel fresh and inspired to continue.

Ok guys, the rest is up to you, hope this helped.

P.S. This is an original document, entirely written by me, Breannan Hepburn, please do not reproduce without permission.

Square

Square shoulders, good for square dancing.