Daisuke throughtout, with a little Kensuke thrown in the end. Characters are about 25. Kensuke is my fav couple for the moment. Working title- What happens when Alias gets magnetic poetry? Basically, this is a collection of poems I wrote when I bought magnetic poetry, and it just evolved into a fic.

The words that Daisuke sees are written like this- =word=

The poem about 'crazy' and 'sane' is a diamonte. And yes, I am aware that I didn't do it right. I didn't want to.

I did this one without Sokkenai, for all of you that wanted to know. Just my magentic poetry and me.

==========

I plop on the floor of Ken's apartment and pull out the plastic hinged box from my cargo pocket. I open the small box and lay out the tiny sheets of magnet.

I pull apart the small sections on the scores and start to place the words back into the box.

=wild= Hmm. Interesting word. Gives me an idea.

Let the wild man drive,
I will walk.

I should add to that. I'll do it later. A magnet falls from the box. =today= Ok, what can I think of from that? =kiss= There we go. Today we kiss. Not bad. What happens later? =tonight= =sing= Tonight we sing. I don't like that. I'll try again. Wait, there isn't any 'tomorrow'? Paper. I need paper.

"Ken?"

"Ken?"

No answer. Not home. I really should look for one. But then I'll lose these things on my lap!

I look around. Kleenex? No. Napkin? Nope. Envelope? Bingo!

Today we dance,
Tonight we kiss,
Tomorrow we sing,
Then we ride.
See the show.

That's better. =mother= I don't like my mother. Should I vent? No. I don't like sad poetry.

=I'm= What about me? =hungry= Why yes I am! I guess I should get something to eat, so I walk into the kitchen. Chocolate! Yes. I didn't know that Ken had bought any candy. But he did! Score.

- - - - -

Good chocolate. =chocolate= Go figure. What can I say about chocolate? Nothing.

=need= What in the world do I need? Hm. Let me think. . .

When you need, take.
When you want, get.
When you crave,

I need a thesaurus. Or I'll wait til Ken comes home. He'll have a word for me.

=crazy= Good word. I am crazy. . .

So what if I am crazy.

What in the world can I add to that? 'Is it so bad?' Nope. Err. What can I add?

So what if I am crazy.
Does that mean you aren't?

Oh! Good one. Next word. . . no. I don't want another word, I can think of more for crazy. Why? Because I am crazy and not sane? That gives me an idea.

Crazy
colorful, spicy
weird, bizarre, fun
active, restless, normal, dull
sleepy, boring, gray
drab, cold
Sane

Freud would have a field day with that. Take that, Paxil.

I think I have gotten all I can from crazy.

=remember= Remember what?

. . . .

. . . .

Ken! I can remember Ken pretty well. Navy hair, longish, he cut it a bit and shaggy, and has it gelled up, almost spiky. His eyes, a deep purple with bluish tone. Black specks float in it. The color is surrounded by a dark blue ring. His face is still pale, but not sickly so. He just never tans. His arms are on the skinny side, but deceptively powerful. His hands are long and slendor. His-

"I'm home!"

Well, thanks for interupting my concentration, Ken. "In here."

He walks from the front door into the short hallway and through the kitchen to the living room I have covered in small magnetic words. He stands right at the edge, kind of afraid to crush the magnets. "I trust you have a productive day."

"Very. Read this." I hold out the envelope and he carefully steps in the few parts of the cream carpet not covered in magnets. He quickly scans through it.

"Good, Dai. You got the ideas from these little magnets?"

"Yes. They work well, as odd as that may seem."

"Hmmm." He pecks me on the cheek and hands back the paper. Then he picks up three words and starts off to the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind I borrow these."

"Not unless they were words I would use."

From the kitchen, I hear him repond. "Maybe, maybe not."

"That makes me curious." I get up, carefully placing the words on me onto the floor, making sure they are as I grouped them.

Ken is at the refridgerator facing me, blocking my view of it. I try to crane my neck around him, but he keeps moving with my live of vision. "Come on, what is it?"

"A suprise. Close your eyes."

So I do. Might as well. He steps away from the refridgerator and leads me toward it. "Open your eyes, Dai."

"Ok." And look at what he added to our collection of papers and magnets. Three of the words from my magnetic poetry.

'You and me.'