"Stranger In My Home"

this summer i started doing some creative writing again. almost forgot how good it feels. i'm in an open, tender sort of mood tonight, so here's something i wrote one night about two weeks ago. the next step is to maybe record this as spoken word, since i kinda wrote it to be read aloud. ideally i'll put some type of original music behind it (without falling victim to the cliche corny open-mic-night-with-bongos-vibe). until i tune up my guitar and launch my garage band application, feel free to read a few lines. and yes, i recently listened to "people are strange" by the doors. :)


Seems that I’ve let a stranger into my home
I opened the door with immediate regret
Pawing through my things
He leaves nothing unchecked
I look on helpless
A stranger in my home

Seems that I’ve let a stranger into my home
He won’t sit down, nor will he leave
He stares out the window
Then stares back at me
Pacing awkwardly
A stranger in my home

Seems that I’ve let a stranger into my home
Too intimidated to kick him out
Hoping if he stays long enough
He won’t seem so strange
What length will it take?
A stranger in my home

Seems that I’ve let a stranger into my home
Doesn’t steal, just asks if he can have stuff
Feeling like a gracious host
I agree
Like the idea came from me
Not the stranger in my home

Seems that I’ve let a stranger into my home
Months have passed but he’s still strange nonetheless
Still intimidating
Still unable to get rest
In my own bed
A stranger in my home


All words/lyrics copyright Julia Cocuzza 2011.

"storm wafted air"

my "build a piece of writing" assignment for vito.. because it's fun! :)


Storm wafted air

A storm wafted the air

A lurking storm wafted the dank midday air

A lurking storm pensively wafted the dank midday air

In East Flatbush, a lurking storm pensively wafted through the dank midday air

While I idled on a stoop in East Flatbush, a lurking storm pensively wafted through the dank midday air

While I idled on a stoop in East Flatbush, a lurking storm pensively wafted through the dank midday air as I waited for inspiration to strike

While I idled on a stoop in East Flatbush, a lurking storm pensively wafted through the dank midday air as I waited for inspiration to strike, but dude never responded to my last text message.

- - -

I idled, wafted, waited for dude.