The exception that proves the rule. A blog of short writings from Australia and England.
Sunday, 8 November 2015
Very Long Now
There's a ghost in my attic. He knows I'm not afraid of death, so instead of haunting me he's taken to taunting me and calling me a spastic. Some are born with silver spoons in their mouths, but all the spoons I've supped from have been plastic. Don't get me wrong, being in love can sometimes be utterly fantastic but why does it always seem to snap as easily as elastic?