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[03 Jun 2008|10:26am] |
Nothing like trapping a ball. A bit of bollock pain for the morning. Twisted tubes, fucked up spunk sack. Wake up, you Joe Cockers, i'm explaining about my sore underbollocks!
No problems sleeping. I think it's because i'm thirty one, and not twenty one. The weekend takes it's toll, you see. Fatigue becomes culminative over the course of a few days, rather than one. Recharging takes more than a single night's sober sleep. I think my problem is that with one day off a week, i'm never really truly rested.
Here's lovely MUSE again, with some Starlight sprinkled across your morning oats. This song delivers an icy jolt to my veins, delivers me hope, delivers me a reason to chase shooting stars.
Get a load of that bass and fuck off, yeah?
I just thought, right. I could cook well good for Rebecca. I already sort of have. She likes eating out, I like eating out.....i'd like to eat out, i'd like to eat her out.......
I really should stop typing everything I think.
Yes, I already did some of her grub. She's a girl that likes things like fish and chicken. As far as I can see. I made her king prawns last week. Actually, I didn't. Dan cooked 'em, and I arranged them on the plate. I'm doing chicken stroganoff today. She'd love that, the sexy fucking pink whistle. I'm a diamond in the rough, i'd blow up her muff. With a stick fashioned from cock!
Yes, anyway. I feel good today. I like cooking, and I like girls like Rebecca. What do you like? Do you like words? If you do, i'll fuck some more down your eyemouthes later, yeah?
Yeah. Bye then. Yeah?
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[03 Jun 2008|02:22pm] |
More Wikipedia fun. No prizes for guessing what i've done to the entry for Matthew Cottle, who played the ginger bloke from Game On. Don't worry, I changed it back.
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[03 Jun 2008|02:59pm] |
Good Letter:
"Dear Rebecca.
Sirens pull me out into your sea, your ocean conceals dark delights, waves of lust crash through me and leviathans sink my ship within your waters."
Bad Letter:
"My cock's got a face, and one eye, and it wants to explore your fun-house. My cyclops penis wants to punch it's way through your velvet dungeon. Two points for an orgasm, three points for a splashdown. Give me the word, and my dick will be sick, with white shit, in your funko-slit. Pinch me, i'm rich with fucksalt!"
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[03 Jun 2008|03:47pm] |
Invade my space,
I don't mind,
shackle me to the floor,
build me up and pin me down,
taped up to the mouth,
splinters sticking to my back,
hurry now, i'm starting to fade,
my body's curling in the space i'm laid,
don't give up now honey,
sweat's thick on me,
i'll be out in a hurry.
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[03 Jun 2008|03:53pm] |
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Her exquisite touch, her silk fingers...her ethereal palms. Waterfalls from her I hide behind, lest the light should beckon me back and break my skin. I want to stay in here forever, watching the golden sunset trickle between her toes, laden with anxieties I cannot come to terms with cloud and defeat my efforts at every turn, as I try to leave.
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[03 Jun 2008|03:59pm] |
She unscrewed the bottle top and flung it aside, shaking her head as she did so and lent on a ringed finger, curled under her in a weary slump. Static filled her head, demons swirled inside her senses and overtook her, she flicked on the television set and hurried inside the waves to escape. Dark corners of her house renewed doubts, the cat purred at her fingertips and comforted slightly, if only for a while as nausea and perfume mixed in her nostrils. Flicking over, terrestrial birds flecked trilled songs at her from natural habitats.
I can't stand this.......breath left her in sharp exhales, she flung back the glass with abruptness she herself was surprised at. Murmurs thickened in the glass, and she passed out, not from alcohol, but from fatigue, emotional and physical.
All night her mind sought solace in street lights, searched out maps of roads and cities, she found an intake of dream with it's oblique patterns and discarded footnotes. Morning found her naked and haunted, soaked in dew and risen anew...like a kick to the chest her lungs exploded, she was alive again.
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[03 Jun 2008|04:00pm] |
I've done some writing! Yippee! I actually feel productive!
Writing is like sex to me.
Well, it's not as good.
But it can be. Sometimes. IF it's really really good. That, what I did gone and did just then was very, very close. I've got me mojo back!
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