Friday, 31 October 2014

Barque of a twee

I hear a voice outside as I pull up another.

The voices outside mock me.

A girl squeals. Guys laugh. Voices so happy.

Lives enriched by being social.

And here I am ripping up another thread out of my carpet. Watching the line disappear in zig-zags.

I'm using his pen to write. Like some kind of ill-gotten and gnarled tree root of an erection which he uses to pleasure his wife's feet.

Rotting disposable shit.


I wish I was a rich girl.


It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone
It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone
It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone
It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone
It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone
It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone
It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone
It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone
It's quiet                                                                     I'm alone

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