Do Not Disturb
Think I'm gonna die.
Awful marker's side effects?
Kill brain cells, makes you high.
Twelve forty-four - it's midnight;
Should be sleeping now, it's late.
I think I need my glasses...
This ink is running. Great.
No comic floats about my mind,
Ideas on the floor...
And everytime you've got something!..
You miss it even more.
I should be drawing Sticktures,
That's my job, and all,
But they're just little pictures,
Insignificant and small.
And since it's getting later,
Marker going to my head,
I think I'm giving up, now...
Fall asleep - I'm dead.
Authoress' note: A poem about having NO ideas for a comic all your friends will be wanting to see in a few days. And how terrible those thin black Sharpies smell.