bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Thursday 15th January 2009.

The day light has faded,my waking hours are almost over,the sheets on the bed are calling,how preposterous in such a thought.I am well in my own mind, i have survived another trip to the barbers..the cost five english pounds,a party this coming Saturday night bade it happen,i have to look my best what ever that is these days.I am in the chair no longer than five minutes,there is not that much to trim off..."what would you like" sir..forget the sir that is my school boy Billy Bunter having a chuckle.Instead i simply reply Number three blade all over and so it happens.
What fucks my the mirror..the all seeing story of ones life hangs from the guilt mirror, the glare so rich, each line drawn upon my face seems magnified was that really me today sat there, where have all those lines come from i am sure i spotted some new ones,is it vanity or simply knowing that my life is drawing closer to the end, making wasted time costly.
What is costly???...a bottle of wine perhaps,lying naked in bed masturbating while those inside the mind scream and shout befuddled words, obsolete kamikaze in a blowing bubbles costly..?? and that simple thing sitting at a bar top watching the barmaid, whilst others watch the football.English Pubs are dying each week boarded up only left for ghosts to cry over, beer stained tears drip, laughs giggles and those gropes under the table in days of youth echo behind chipboard nailed over the windows.
Last night as i walked home from work i ventured into a pub i have walked past for years without sniffing the barmaids apron i put my coins over the bar and supped a fine pint of Robinson's Best Mild...a beer no other country can produce which is probably as well..the cost now £2.20 per pint perhaps why indeed they are dying, what working man can afford such pleasure.The barmaid was a pixie with the cutest of smiles..the football bellowed behind,the hands shook at the screen,thankfully i am no longer a follower of such a game, as i once was, i could retreat and simply watch the reactions on faces old Billy Bunter came to mind..i had another pint settled in the warmth,half an eye on the working would be such a shame if all this became simply chip board....

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