I've got nothing of note to report here, so it'll be rather boring as a piece of poetry or fiction. Mind you, this will also be the piece, or one of the pieces, i use to apply to the Creative Writing Program here at University of Miami.
I've narrowed down my choices for the fiction track to option
http://www.as.miami.edu/english/creativewriting/undergraduate/admissions)
Smokes. Rick walks into CVS with one thing on his mind. Smokes. Camels, Malborros, Newports, Cobra, Memphis, Rick needs anything, something, just to get the nicotine fix his body craves. The freezing Brooklyn air curls around him, probing his coat, looking for an opening to wreak havoc. The December night is harshly cold and crisp, and every inch of skin left out feels like ice. The biting scent of burning wood is the only redeeming quality of the night. The door opens with that annoying chime, and Rick walks to the counter, the soft sound of his boots on the tiles the only noise in the store. He opens his mouth, his teeth chattering, the sound jarring like bones, he utters two words. "Smokes. NOW." The lady behind the counter looks at him, her jaw down in disbelief at the attitude rolling off him in waves. She looks behind her, the manicured nails reaching to the familiar spot where the cheapest packs can be found, only to find... its empty. She looks closer. Then her eyes widen in shock and her hands fly over each empty compartment. She turns back to Rick, her eyes fearful and her voice meek. "I'm...I'm sorry sir, we don't have any more smokes. We're out."
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