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Sunday 20th May 2007.

Today is the lords day..but he no longer live here,he gone to some other planet where the blood is not so red,easily split,splattered amongst the grey skies angry clouds and any old crisp packet that blows in the gutter.
I sometimes feel that i am in the gutter,lying in a pool of empty beer cans,chocolate wrappers and all manner of wee beastie's crawling over my plump body.
There is a young man i see almost every working day now,he always waves as i pass, in his hand is either a can or plastic bag with a couple left out of a four pack he walks like a cyber-naught from DR Who the cans in the bag almost jerking up right a spunked orgasm in heavy metal..As i was working on saturday he passed by and we exchanged a few words he told me it was his birthday and listed his amble bubbles he was going to par-take in,behind us was the familiar poster one see's quite often now...accident if witnessed come forward..which means a life less on the planet..a hit and run i believe a young lad, did he dash out, not see the white van, was he playing chicken..was it infact one of the young lads i saw friday night playing football,how precious life is and now so very cheap or has it always been so??....and here i am waving to one who simply drinks...is it simply pity on my side vanity in rich tapestry or am i simply some what miffed that he is no longer part of the rat race chasing his arse up the clock face and the fact i have mine so close to the clock face i can only see the the saccharine turtles laughing away...perhaps so.
I am not bitter about this, i just wonder why i have happened to wave back to this lad when everyone calls him a knobhead for throwing his life away or the fact that he is on benefits and it is their money of which he is drinking away.
Why does he not work goes the cry...
Why do they not moan and do something about the government bum fucking us so hard..perhaps...And then again maybe i admire him for i doubt he has such dreams as i or is that vanity again...i dreamed earlier in the week about my mother...it scared me..it made me not sit before this machine for a whole day it shook me so i had to talk to a friend,it was that vivid putrefying scary so bizarre i would have not been surprised if gnostic dwarfs had been fucking vulva boatmen..perhaps that would have been better than being entombed in the darkness of shibboleth hours in the opening decade of the millennium,i cannot recall such a dream before for i am sure i would have recalled such visions as so many of my dreams have become, the moving transport the lost keys the nakedness the face i cannot see is it lady or the last tiger stomping on my withered tail...

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bichoose
bichoose

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