my boy, poem

Nobody said it was easy,
by god, they were right.
One cannot imagine: the wispy figure
the deep blue ocean eyes
ungrown hair, dreary smile.

Devoid of spirit.

Abandoned by life.

His soft white skin, slowly drained of moisture
And a frozen grasp on a furry bear;
Tears forming on its glass eyes,
Casting looming shadows of reflection.

His last gaze searched my soul;
I hope he found compassion.
I pray he found his joy.
I wish he didn't have to go.

Here I stand.


Alone.


Endlessly cursing into the night,
Praying for my child.
My boy.

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Madame De Parkerdour, or 'Valoch' as she is now known, has been forbidden from (I quote her) "touching" me in physics lessons, much to our mutual disappointment. I have thus resorted to writing the negative form of yes on her hand as a sign of my despised restraints.
The rustic iron chains have been cast down informally by a person of great knowledge and power, a person whom is originally from Scotland and would like to tell us things of which there is no time. This person is a warlock, she controls the structure of atoms with her red, green and yellow pieces of card. She despairs at the inappropriate and forcéd hugs that I have so valiantly endured.
Valoch hides behind a shield of mascara and eye-liner, with dyed hair and brown eyes, prodding me with her vicious spears and accusations of a sullen countenance - which simply are not true! I fight back with my only tools: pens and 'borrowed' stationary, of which there is little. Supplies are running low after the fifth night of raids and help must be sent soon! I implore ye watchers of this discord, send forth the bus!

we need to talk more

"Do we? Do we really? I honestly couldn't care less about you - and what do you expect, I don't talk to you. There's a reason we don't talk. I'm not sure what it is, but there is a reason. It's probably a very good one. If it isn't then I've made a grievous mistake, which I don't like to do. If either of us were remotely interested in each other we wouldn't be here right now, having this conversation would we? No. We wouldn't.
I don't have a clue why you said this to me, I don't even know why I liked your status - I mean, honestly, we hardly even know each other. Yeah. I said it. WE DON'T KNOW EACH OTHER. In consideration that probably isn't all too true, I like to know people I meet to some degree and so by nature you know me a bit too,  we probably don't like each other much. Not really. We can be all nice and flowery over this but we still don't like each other, not like real friends."
I hate people that say this, it's so damn annoying. People don't talk for a reason, and if they want that to change they don't say this- they ACT ON IT.

rottweiler

When being chased by a rottweiler life becomes  that bit simpler, the ordinarily bogged down pages turn so much more easily. Get away from the devil and avoid the loss of a limb in the process; why is it then that one must fill in 20 pages of risk assessment? It is a troubling thought to cross my mind, 'If I get out of his alive I need to fill in 100 bloody forms confirming the event, consoling the owner of the dog and requesting a damn good lawyer.' Thank God I don't get chased by savage beasts often! I dread to imagine a career in dog-care, particularly rottweilers...
Fortunately I was able to lay my hands on a katana. Legal problems aside, it was a fantastic weapon and did the trick just fine, my pirate games as a child really paid off. A clean cut was what I aimed for, though it ended up as more of a hammer battery than silent ninja kill. Sh. Nobody told you that. The dog died painlessly - it was unconscious after the first few blows.
Satan's owner was very good about it all, I arrived at her doorstep full of crocodile tears I'd nicked from the zoo last week and told her some sob story about a truck hitting the bugger. She was a bit thick and so forgot to question the blatant katana marks, so everything went to plan! Apart from the cat. I swear it was an accident. The idiot wandered into my blade. It was a shame really, the wife left me because of it - still, at least I killed her dog. I hate rottweilers.

I dink I have a dold

I think I have a cold coming on, this is a happy time for it to be stalking me as exam week has finished now - just one more trial to survive tomorrow :D Hopefully my grade will not be influenced by my malfunction.
I remember in year 7 in a maths exam I was sat next to somebody with a cold, it annoyed the nails off my fingers. I do sincerely hope that nobody will suffer at my expense at zero hour, I'd hate for my cold being responsible for the teacher getting irritated at somebody because of their low score which was directly influenced by my cold. I know the class setting won't be changed at all and so tomorrow's test is a bit pointless, but still, it's the principles.

I'm on Skype now, I can hear a friend playing the guitar, it's very nice - don't tell him I said that though. Oh dear, he's trying to sing. This is a shambles. Yay! I love how the electronically distorted notes fit perfectly together, they are so nicely in harmony it's freaky. The pace is slowing down a bit now... I wish I'd learnt the guitar. I never had any reason to do so which is probably why I didn't; I took cello lessons for a while but then stopped, I'm not 100% sure as to why I stopped, I just did.
Never give up on an instrument, you'll regret it later. If you get the opportunity to learn something like guitar or piano... do it. They sound nice.
Ahhhh, a very endearing repetitive chord thingy is being played now, lovely.

passionate love, in the oven

I've been on holiday recently, I paid visit to one of Mr. Billy Butlin's attractions. It was bad - the two things that got me through it were my book and the dodgems (NO bumping). I had low expectations from the off, but I was completely dumbfounded by the accommodation. In a word? Crap, with grime included in the cost. I was surprised that flies weren't making passionate love in the oven. In fact, I was surprised the bloody roof hadn't eaten itself.

In my area roofs tend to be very emotional creatures, prone to nervous breakdances and spontaneous combustion. That was a lie.

ON HOLIDAY

I would post, but I can't. So I won't. And yes, it really did take this long to think of this.