Writing

I'm sitting here in my room, sweating. Waiting. Reading blogs, getting inspired. I'm feeling the music in the back of my monitor. It's soothing. My back is somewhat upright from the book underneath my arms while i type. The watch on my wrist is ticking consistently, right. on. time. The labor workers are in my neighbors lawn making that loud hum. The sound louder according to the amount of grass it cuts. The sun is slowly peering in from the window while my shutters stay upright at a 30 degree angle. They cut through the shade facing the inside of my room like butter. The scrapes on my knuckles from training are fading. The song is changing now. I look at my new cell phone as it sits here on this book. Perched like an eagle. Like a little assistant ready to help me and my day. You know every time i hear this artist, her songs, it makes me think of this girl. The artist words become hers to me. I feel like this girl wants the artists words to be her own. She wants to speak how she speaks. You know, this girl. She's something else. She's something I find to be special. To me. And she's some intricate maze of a woman. With twists and turns and perils at each corner. To make it through this maze is something i know will be far harder than I would ever know. I feel she lies. but she tells me she doesn't. She tells me things with these eyes. So I know she does. Shes an animal. Hiding in the forest. Who I sit and wait for, in the open plain. She comes to feed from my hand, to play and dart. But when I laugh to loud, or jump to start, shell get scared. startled. Show her teeth. Her playful manner becomes a defensive wall as she leaves. I can't take the thoughts of hurting this girl. Its 5 minutes till work. And I can't even take the time. Because i'm trying to find my mind. Every moment slips with my watch still ticking. I want to hear this girls voice. Beep. Beep. Beep. But I don't want to wait for it, and spend effort to it. What does that make me? I'll get some clarity soon. I promise.