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Tuesday 21st November 2006.

Today came some what colder,i shivered the alluring dream gone once more.the wireless at work spat out the usual terror hawkes,i was glad to remove my self from the inflictions made from the glass and plastic machine.I wonder what the newscaster feels after he or she has finished maybe they get up and have a piss,as they watch the stream, what ticks through their minds,possibly a sort of numb feeling after so many years, a sort of fuck it, where is my weetabix and should i really put that much sugar on,maybe i should have a piece of toast in stead,lashings of peanut butter makes the mouth go numb then wowo as the race for the overdose on the floating drinks machine clicks past the flashing clock on air once more ..and yet more of the same dribble,yet not dribble for those who find themselves involved with all this hassle. But to me hearing this every half hour makes me want to urinate over the blessed machine i wonder why all news seams to be blood and gore do us johnny public really want this news evey half hour why not once a day and then on sundays gosh where has sunday popped up from..i have begun to become numb myself shrugging at the wireless,not even putting it on as i ride around in my tiny red van lost in dreams,some impossible some so wanting the devils riders reach into the sky and laugh out loud, silly buggers if i see you there first the crows caulked today they have this magnificence that captures time more so in winter as they swoop for titbits laced down from tree stubs where witches from child hood dreams race on the backs of ants before the multitude drives forth into the greymattered underpants,that seamed so fresh then but now distilled with hope a glory on alive in marching boots sadly no one marches anymore...

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bichoose

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