[Universe]

You Have No Idea

*80 line max, as agreed upon.

"It's a bizarre but wonderful feeling, to arrive dead center of a target you didn't even know you were aiming for." - Lois McMaster Bujold

......

I. Brainstorming

I'm only close minded when I grab a shirt and jeans from the closet
Most are many sizes too small if I'm being perfectly honest
They're not for me if you want to know, I have seeds of a topic
But sometimes when trying to prevent something you inadvertently cause it...
I'm searching for words in my office, the rain outside is hectic
Staring at my computer, the screen as blank as my expression
Infantile reflections lead to unheard of drinking
A mute precursor to thinking, my eyes are open - the cursor's blinking...
In deep and words are sinking; Shut my laptop, where is my coat?
I'm prepared to go yet hoping helicopter parents stayed home
My hunting area's known, most pitfalls I fell in alone
I checked my cell phone, ignoring yells and groans from the cellar below...

II. Abduction

I called to the brown haired boy while following behind as he walked
I steer into a lot - Writer's Block is where my career took off
Was once nearly caught, fear of loss grew as I ran that day
In a panicked state, but close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades
Back to my brown haired prey, dreaming of his dumb little remains
I can't tell if I'm insane or hypnotized by umbrellas and rain
Either way, I casually grabbed this kid for a little visit
Amid screams of "Plagiarism!" from heinous critics in the distance
Shoved him in my Vehicle for success, took the scenic drive down
Doors locked without sound, he cried out but the idea's mine now
After all possession's nine tenths of the law; I tape and subdue him
Restraining movements, this breath of fresh air has made me more human
Usually catch youth in my net, grooming a college student's nonsense
I position the boy and shoot a stock pic... Call it proof of concept
My crude process has more run on sentences than fleeing prisoners
I find the boy's microchip, check it quick to see if he's registered...
He isn't. Could this get any better? I ain't ignoring what's lacking
What do umbrella's protect us from? The boy stuttered, "B-b-rainstorms..." Exactly.
I've taken more captives, bystanders that weren't up to my standards for sure
My phone vibrates in my hand, I grip it firm - an Amber Alert
It's a turn for the worse; Listen boy, when we get inside my room...
We'll edit lines and views to make sure no one recognizes you
I'm in an enterprising mood. He ain't. It seems momma raised a screamer
So I beat his face with a straight edged cleaver and rearranged his features
Take it from me junior, together we can inspire these misfits
And with fiction, no one will know you weren't mine to begin with...

III. Research and Development

That evening on TV, crowds gathered around kids with brown hair
News reports on a Tragedy Wall - the boy's posters fill the town square
These authors are drowning in ideas, outlandish concepts are better shared
No surprise that in my Field children are hijacked everywhere...
I stroll to my attic of despair, good thing my foundation's stellar
I won't bend or break when I drag the boy down to the basement cellar
Yeah I've done this before; The window's drapes oddly hindering my view
Of an inner truth - and of various small naked bodies littering the room
They've been bitten, consumed; And in case you're wondering the truth of this...
Each of these children are a stolen idea, published under a pseudonym
Hope you've clued in; Some sprawled in waste or landed in their place
Chalk outlined their shapes, guess you can say they vanished with a trace
In a decomposed state, seems they're abortions awaiting rebirth
Steal from a single source it's plagiarism, but steal from a few, it's research
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! There's been knocking at the front all the while
I go upstairs, open the door and hear, "I think you stole my child..."

IV. Who's Your Daddy?

The man said, "I gave the boy his life, it's my right to teach him"
"You didn't earn my idea, so unless you looking for a fight, release him."
Seems it's too honorable for most to see through ripped clothes
But being overprotective will ultimately leave you exposed
I go, You left your idea unguarded, talk around town is clear
To him the concept was near and dear - we brawl and struggle down the stairs
Tumbled to the cutting room floor, there's no time to outline some notes
I pulled a knife, sliced his jugular open - who said writer's aren't cut throat?
Welcome to my humble abode; The father died while the boy cried, "Daddy!"
The man bleeds out in the background - he ain't coming back around sadly
You're MY creation like it or not... I'm your daddy now - your savior!
He might've thought of you first, but I'm the one who got you down on paper
I took what's new and made it old, I ought to confess his role
Let it be known... This man on the floor is a story already told...

V. Children's Books

I had to address my dwelling when fans learned of my ghoulish cellar
Planned to pen letters at an autograph signing for my new bestseller
A woman with an umbrella entered and said, "I knew I was destined to meet 'cha"
"I've written some things myself, but I think I do best as a teacher"
She handed me my own book to sign - It's my job to know my readers
She asked, "Is it hard to create something from scratch?"... You have no idea...
"I DO have one..." A baby girl beside her was slobbering on a soother
"Here's my life's work, her name's Amber - I'd be honored if you used her..."
Of course the child was invisible, no one could tell she was before me
My phone buzzed - a yellow warning; Something compelling was forming...
I said to Amber: I'd hate to take your mom's umbrella when it's pouring
It's self explanatory, but...

I think you'd make one hell of a story...

;)

Catch ya later.