Feeling swallowed my work; clawing your way through its belly like you're Pinocchio and the big whale. Burnt out and bulldozed.
Chug chug chug There are looks and then there are stares And wide-eyed candy floss pink blushes Contained in dim lit, smoke studded carriages Stuffed with meat and bodies and faces and breaths Some of which aren't as sweet smelling As the dulcet tones of Elizabeth Bennett Or Mr Darcy and his linens (I presume)… Continue reading Colin Firth on my commute again
And I'll stand in the middle of the carriage Entwined around a bar Legs wedged around rucksack Head resting on the pole And instead of feeling exposed In a sea of people - the only one standing I toughed it out and remained there lurking Could have hop-footed to the end And hidden by that… Continue reading The middle of the carriage
I don't need a car, a job, a husband, a dog I just need my mum, she says. 24 and staring at the floor Kicking my feet like a wannabe Dorothy Kansas why'd ya leave me sore? 24 and needing a cuddle Brain is just a jumbo muddle Curse you, Mum, for being the best… Continue reading Happy birthday Mum.