So far away

I will be looking out of the window as the train pulls away into gushing oceans of green grass, dead trees snagging the overcast sky and plunging into icy Wiltshire. Everything will fog over and start wobbling as the rain begins to fall. All I will be thinking about is you. As the smooth frost night blankets everything, lying in a foreign country in a bed that isn't mine, isn't with you, the rain will fall harder.

Come to me in my dreams with velvet touch and cottony whispers that I might be with you as I sleep.

Stay. I cannot do this alone.

But I've learned to cry very quietly.

Sleep

I've been having trouble sleeping recently. It could be the lack of alcohol. It could be Mike's snoring, sweating and flailing. But I think it's mostly down to a severe lack of medication.

About once a month, or on Valentine's day and birthdays we get to sleep like this:

Peaceful, cuddly, perfect.

Most of the time there's lots of jabbing, sleep-punching, kicking and accidental strangulation. We will wake up, toss and turn and fight for the centre of the bed. But most of the time, it just ends up like this:

:(

You sit not ten vertical feet from me, under some illusion that I'm not curled up in the dark crying. It is as if you have rejected every ounce of my being. Do you even know how much it fucking hurts or is that all part of you? Blissful ignorance. Surely even you can see that this happened before, and I know you didn't like the six month outcome of that little venture. I can't even have a torrid affair because it would break my fucking heart all over again.
I guess some things are better left untouched. Right?

I don't blame you. I look fucking disgusting. I wouldn't want to fuck me, so why should anyone else. Right?

Melancholy

Because I have nothing better to do than sip vodka at 3pm and fuck around on my shiny new laptop, today's post is about my cat, Melancholy (answers only to Cat). See, I thought it would be funny to call her Melancholy because she looks a bit like a Border Collie, and I like puns. She is also the happiest, most retarded cat I have ever met. This morning at about four A.M I stepped on her tail, she looked up in horror and then rolled over for a tummy scratch.

She runs into doors at full speed.

 It freaks me the fuck out when cats do that stretchy leg thing. That's not normal. And the sound is what I imaging masturbating with glass paper would sound like.Scratch. Sccrraatch. Scccccrrrratch.

My cat dribbles when it's happy. I've checked online and I'm still pretty convinced my cat has brain damage. We like to fuck with her by sticking random shit to her to see how she will cope. Most of the time she hunches over and creeps around before giving in, accepting her fate as doomed forever and rolling over for tummy scratches.

And at 5 A.M she likes to wake you up by jumping up on the bed, kneading any exposed squishy bits with her claws out and then sitting, wet cat nose on no longer sleeping human's nose. This doesn't go down as well as the cat thinks it should.

But despite being retarded and dribbling a lot, we love her. We do.

I really can't get to grips with drawing using the touch pad. I could plug a mouse, or even a drawing tablet in. But these are my shitty pictures, and they're worth a thousand equally shitty words.

Just

What a hectic month...

I've been pregnant, miscarried and have a birthday to "enjoy". I'm turning 20. No more teenage angst, just plain, slow and flat depression :D

I'm fucking exhausted.

Oh melancholy me.

Erm

                       For the past week my boyfriend has been like this

and my cat has been like this

Weed does strange things to people

(and cats)

Olanzapine Dreamers Are All Secret Schemers.

I was looking for you,
Lonely.
Stuck between the ceiling
And the cellar door.
Conflated emotions
And deflated notions of
What would be in store.
For my prince among thieves
Will go where e'er his heart takes him
Foolish boy-
He believes in his
Redolent dreams.
I called out for you,
Lonely
Underneath my umbrella.
Almost begging for the rain
To bring something more.
Myriad droplets fell, gentle
As tears go.
Unraveling me to the core.
And my naked boy wonder
Was far from my calling,
Heard the rain
And nothing more.




RHYME LESS RHYME LESS WHY DO I WRITE LIKE A CHILD THE CAT SAT ON THE FUCKING MAT AND GOT SO FAT WE.... ATE IT. YUM.