First day

Someone told me, "today is the first blank page of a three hundred and sixty five page book. Make it a good one. In response, I wrote this in about fifteen minutes. I've tried to make it relate-able to a few people and so I was careful not to be gender specific.

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I woke up halfway through the day, my eyes blurry and my head pounding. I was on someone's couch- but whose, I wasn't sure. The acrid scent of vomit permeated throughout the room, and with a guilty realisation I knew it was my own.

Stumbling over the empty bottles on the floor and unconscious individuals I barely recognised, my mission was clear- to find my pants. I had removed them sometime during the night in a game of strip poker I must not have lost, considering my shirt was still hanging off me. The television was on and several people were already drinking coffee and watching cartoons. None of them looked up as I passed by.

Climbing the stairs I continued my journey, my throat desperately begging me for a glass of water. Finding the bathroom, I turned on the sink and cupped my hands under the cool water. Taking deep gulps, I was able to momentarily satisfy my thirst. Splashing some water on my face to clear my head, I looked up at the dirty mirror to see a face I didn't know. Bloodshot eyes, stiff hair piled upon my head like a haystack and some sort of strange, brown substance smeared itself on my chin. I rubbed it off and was relieved when it wasn't blood.

Peering carefully into each of the bedrooms, I found several of my friends had decided to pair up for the night, including, to my annoyance, my ex, who was in the master bedroom with someone I didn't even know. At the end of their bed it so happened was my pants, and I quickly snatched them up and pulled them on before leaving the bastards to their slumber. Out of a moment of spite, I decided to leave the door wide open.
Finally able to leave, I say a hasty goodbye to the host, who is enjoying cereal on the couch. He gives me a vague smile and a puzzled look as he tries to recall exactly who I am before I turn away and open the door into the bright and early afternoon.

As I make the ashamed walk home I get a call from my friend, asking if I've forgotten anything. Quickly checking my pockets I realise he's right. My wallet's gone.

December

I composed this a few weeks ago on a trip. I had nothing to do but wait, no internet access and so I decided it would be a good time to write a poem. This was done in about twenty minutes. I didn't think to upload it until now.

-Amino

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Australia -a great expanse

Of desert winds and sand

We live upon the coastal edge

Of this great southern land.

Christmas is not snow for us

Nor jackets, boots or cold

But scorching sun and hats and shorts

And thongs for young and old.

Our Santa has no elfish cap

No sleigh and no reindeer.

He wishes that we leave no milk

But a cold and frosty beer.

He drives a Ute with gifts in back

And leaves them at the door.

We have no chimneys to climb down

Yet barbeques galore.

We hold our old traditions

Our culture keeps us strong

For December is our summer

And as such our days are long

With cockatoos to wake us

And bats to signal night

The Christmas Beetles show up

Wherever there is light

You’ll find our people friendly

Without a given reason

There’s nowhere I would rather be

To celebrate the season.