Character From Book

Kneeling, seeing in his mind, the first steps of a child, smiling.

A lover's first kiss. Sun beating down on hot sands. Mountain

Splendour. Empty eyes staring, to die on golden dunes, bowed.

Knife sharpened, vertigo swimming the senses, camera whirs.

Character from Book is great, speaking words each man hears

Differently from the next, commanding the hands

Of each man differently from his brother, or mother,

Manipulated by man's treachery to occupy another man's soul.

The end a decollation, sacred blood sinks down. Forever down

Until the life is nothing more than the possessions

Of those whose tears have been falling far away

And will fall still, until the only tears left are dry. Like sand.

And through all the horror, in the wings, forced to look,

The next life is offered up to Character from Book.

The Equation of Tragedy and Time

Mindless, floating, blackened wings caress corrupted air

Cindered, ashen, powdered sprites numberless abound

Forbidding lunar landscapes coating memories of despair

All of nothing everywhere and all around no sound

Molten waves drown silent screams in cruel discorporation

Chronic fractals paralysed in contorted final throws

Sad abandoned hollow dreams in moulded termination

Beneath a surging onslaught that casts a timeless pose

Hiding away in the dark, out of sight, impervious, passing by,

Indifferent to the agony and the emptiness inside.

The weekly hugs and adopted rituals, over polite cups of tea,

The same old tableaus and anecdotal yarns reach stale new perspective,

While distantly, detached and unfettered by the monotony of undying grief,

Embalmed in taboo, the final punch, lines a destructive, arousing inflective.

Cracked Eggs

The gravelly paths throw dusty air,

Ratchet clicks top hushing grass,
Sweat breaks-out beneath my hair,
Miniature bombers dive by fast.

A cratered road like minefield lies,
We weave around with skill.
Zips and hoots, defiant cries,
And hard we force uphill.

Feet off peddles coasting back
Like varnished oars on metal rowlocks,
A sudden jolted heavy thwack
Full weight on throbbing bollocks

My balls, my balls, my balls, my balls. I feel like such a dummy.
MY BALLS! THE PAIN! MY BALLS! THE PAIN! A fizzing in my tummy.

Confide

So hard to get by in life without someone on your side. No one to confide in or empathise with you. How much easier would life be with someone close to talk to...

Ode to a Brain Inside My Head

Gigantic meaty walnut twin.

Spongy; transparent membrane skin.

Colossal, hefty hemispheres,

Live somewhere between my ears,

The intracranial heart of me;

Heirloom of my family tree.

I worship your banal inventions;

Oh, know-er of taboo intentions;

There, where dreams forgot, expire;

Where Machiavellian schemes transpire.

Powerful, pulsing, pink gray-matter.

Round't back- Medulla Oblongata.

With lightning fast efficiency,

Two eyes to serve it visually;

Memories for regurgitation;

Whacked and warped imagination;

Stores language for communication;

And images, but not for masturbation. I don't know what you mean...

But why, brain? Why this duality?

Why... insecure me?

Perceptions cascade violently

Like cliffs fall into fractured sea.

Ground crashing down away from me.

My descent a spectacle - a sight - a 'thing' for all to see.

Poor bedraggled frazzled brain,

Part Crimea: a little less Ukraine.

Feeling never ending strain.

Pushing back-against in vain

With arty, anal alliteration,

Rude relentless rumination;

Continuous cock-eyed cogitation;

Perpetual prattling preoccupation;

Persistent peristaltic postulation.

Tithe with herbal medication,

Washed down with sharp intoxication.

Blurred by senses enemy,

Eradicates all memory

Away! Away with intellectual floggin'...

And rest thee... my most precious noggin.

Repetitive-Inane Injury

I used to have a spaceman's helmet when I was very young. It used to hurt my ears when I put it on cos it was tight and the mask would always slip down when I wanted it open. It used to annoy me when I played with it, but I put it on every day. Why do I have fond memories of that helmet? It makes no sense. Like the warm milk we got in school. It was horrible to drink, but I liked milk so I always drank it thinking I liked it, but never did. My sister used to buy me white chocolate mice that tasted like hairspray... but I always ate them. I'm still like that. Slow on the uptake. Am I weird or are other people like this?

Tuesday, 7th October 2014

"It's just a five minute walk." she said.

I believed her. I don't know why I believed her, but I did. It was ten minutes... but this is mostly irrelevant. It only bears relevance to the accumulative annoyance of the day and why I trust anyone when it comes to estimations of time.

I dropped Imogen off at the Childminders' house for the first time. It was raining. I then walked to the bus stop, in the rain, and arrived right on the expected arrival time of the bus.

A few minutes later, the bus came past in the opposite direction going towards the town centre which is about five minutes away. The bus, therefore, would be ten minutes away... while I waited in the rain.

Thirty minutes later, I'm still waiting for the bus.

Forty-five minutes later, the bus turned up, though it was the next bus on the timetable. The bus I was waiting for just decided not to turn up, therefore, the lecture which I was hoping to be early for, I was now going to be late for... after I got through the roadworks on the East Lancs.

I got to the lecture fifteen minutes late.

After the lecture, I chatted with a friend, who turns out to be a devout Christian and we almost argued about a point she thought I'd made, which she merely misunderstood, or couldn't comprehend.

After the final lecture of the day, I went for the bus to Bolton to meet a friend who had lent me five books. I had to catch a more frequent bus than the one I normally catch. When I wait for my normal bus - the 'X34' - usually two or three of the number '8' go by. The time was 3:42pm.

At 4:31pm, after getting drenched, and after two 'X34's had gone by, I sent a text to my mate along the lines of, 'have you set off yet? are you walking or driving? my bus hasn't come yet'. Depending on his reply, I was going to offer to meet him another day. My head was cold and wet, as too were my feet; rain had gone inside my jacket and I was hungry.

I waited for a reply. I took out my phone again and lo, although my phone had displayed battery power at 31% remaining on last check, it had now gone off showing no battery power left and need of recharge.

I wanted to fucking yell! Fucking iPhones!!!

I thought to myself, should I go straight home hoping Chris had inferred from my last message I was going to do the same myself, or, should I continue on to Bolton on a bus that was going to be loaded with passengers who had been waiting an hour themselves. Three bus loads on one bus.

I decided I couldn't stand him up as he might be walking... and he walks everywhere in sandals and he'd said that he was a little under the weather.

The bus it did arrive soon after and was like a bubbling and overflowing jam tart from a hot oven.

I managed to find a seat on the top deck, thankfully, but the bus seemed to unload at every stop due to the amount of people on board.

We were passed by another number '8' very quickly, this next bus being quite unburdened by wet and weary souls, therefore not needing to stop as regularly as our bus. It only had to stop to pick up passengers (which our bus seemed to do too).

After maybe fifteen minutes, some cunt decided they needed some fucking music to cheer them on their way. It wasn't jazz (my least favourite genre), it was Reggae (my second most loathed). When each song ended, another started, and I swear to the god in whom I don't believe that I really couldn't discern as to whether it was a new song that came on next, or the very fucking same vile, mind-numbing song on repeat.

I felt like my marbles were scattering and my blood was fit to explode out from my capillaries and through my tight and opaque outer-tissues due to a creeping hyper-tension.

And then another number '8' bus passed us shortly after Farnworth. I was ready to commit 'something-icide'. 'Anything-icide'. 'Everything-icide'.

I disembarked at the penultimate stop and wondered if Chris might be waiting in the bus station for my bus to arrive. No. That was a silly, and so brief, ponderance. A minimal preponderance of a ponderance.

I made my way to our previous meeting point in the library.

He wasn't there.

I walked to the large steps in the town square and scanned the area for signs of a large, white male with beard, glasses and sickly gait.

I saw him not.

So I went for the '582' to Leigh.

The queue was long, but I got a seat. A window seat. A double seat. 'Double-seat, double-seat, gotta get a double-seat'!

I took out my phone and pressed the power button with the prior knowledge it was futile action.

The Apple icon illuminated. The fucking thing had power after all. It came on, proudly boasting 28% battery-power remaining.

FUCK!!!

I texted Chris (knowing I was not going to get off the bus. No way, Jones-ay). Thankfully he'd driven and so it wouldn't take him long to get back home. We'd both gone a-looking in the library, apparently, but obviously had missed each other. I had spied not a very large man with sneezy-red nose, Action-Man hair and dark-brown Captain Birdseye beard.

I told him I'd get the books back to him next week, at which point my battery prematurely capitulated once more and went black before our conversation had reached its proper conclusion.

I got to Leigh, walked to Tesco's and thence on to home along the wet, puddle-rich streets. Bedraggled, bedevilled and begone.

So, this was my day. I hadn't gone to the gym either, which added to my self-disdain.

Next day, I unpacked my backpack and discovered it wasn't rain-proof. Chris's books were damaged slightly. This made the previous day's events even worse. I now had guilt.

I sent Chris a message apologising for the water damage. He was a gentleman about it.

Bottom line: FUCK!!!  

Exhaustion

My first two weeks in University has been a cacophony of confused celebration and exhausted emotions. I'm trying to make a creative sentence, but am sounding muddled and pretentious. I need to start using a different word to pretentious. I use it too much.

The stress of not having a child minder and thinking I will have to give up my place at university is excruciating. I've shown signs of intelligence above others, but my poor hearing has lessened my chance to improve on this and my overzealous and ignorant use of the university website has caused me to feel embarrassment in front of the younger students. I don't feel like I fit in. Then again, I never fit in anywhere. But I want to. I want to make a friend. A person with whom I can be close and share things, especially humour and emotional issues. But that doesn't look likely after experiencing a few weeks in their company. I haven't connected with anyone. I want a peer, but I don't feel like there are any peers with whom I'd like to allow in or whom would like to allow me in. In short, I need someone who shares my sense of humour, whom I respect, who is messed up, but also has the wisdom to know they have to listen too in order to have a rewarding friendship. That doesn't seem likely. Ideally it would also be a women whom I find attractive and who could find me attractive once I lose weight.

Also, I chatted with an American, but guess what---- he doesn't like baseball. FUCK!!!

Drained

Twenty years of abuse.
Two weeks into University.
Drained. Something in me wants to run away.

My Comment on Gay Marriage

The Christians try to convince people they have the final say on marriage, because it's a 'sacred' thing (whatever the fuck that means). But if it was a Christian/holy/sacred thing, then it WOULDN'T be 'till death us do part'. It would be 'forever from now'. And this thing about gay marriage being deliberated over by governments - well, it's like this: the government realise something is wrong - next day they change it. Not: they realise it's wrong - ten years later they're still fucking about. Legalise gay marriage, dickheads, or ban all marriage. Marriage is shit. To me, gays wanting to be married is like atheists wanting to be baptised. Just - why?! It's not necessary.