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Monday 20th november 2006.

Gosh..Monday already on the on the wain the cock-roaches have already feasted on my grey matter the bulge in the unicorn is not his horn,the brain whilst of having consummed a weeks wine, my eyelids peak from behind the cork screw in the draw. My jar of corks lies nearly to the brim;how can you feel the urmp..from opening a screw-top wine bottle opener does no spiffyness to those who have trod the grapes.mind watch the toe nails; swooping down crows pick at the leavings on the road, o'nanism climbs on board the daily bus to know where.
I found the words i was looking for in America....Family Annihailators.war of the worlds has not a sticky oat cake on this clod hopper trance dance through the media world.Ten a week the printed word tell me how much more could i dwell on if i returned to buy a daily paper.
i touch,i dribble life becomes a luminosity ball.Gowns should be worn, i would look good in black,laced with black lipstick would a crow then sit on my shoulder would long john silver reappear from childhood tea parties.I knew a Mary once back in those days when parents did not mind you playing in the garden shed at mother and father i remember the red tea pot and sitting there one day i can picture it now.

yet i failed my exams a sort of shrug the shoulders always tomorrow and that other old clatter..tomorrow never comes another one for the bread basket.How quaint the crow,who now seems enlightened to the shivering nestle of clod hoppers doomed until the path is taken.What path yes that path...gosh i even dare my self....

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bichoose

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