The Ghost part 26
When you get me within 2 meters of Facebook and I've had too much to drink I don't know whether I can be held entirely responsible for the series of actions I put in place. The vile and pointless things I may write on chat or on a profile which, while profound to me in the inebriated state, are absolutely disjointed and fragments of a booze troubled mind. 2 such discussions took place yesterday evening. Both pitifully rude and intrusive; plain daft.
The detritus of 'Metro', 'Shortlist' and 'Stylist' that follows me on my journey. Waste paper, discarded drinks cans, cola bottles, graffiti on the windows and chairs and the dusty, muddy faded seats. The crummy x98 with it's fading purple seats and glum faced brutes. Paping thin wasting away with cracked and yellowed teeth and salt and pepper hair.
I ate all the Ben and Jerry's the night before last and chucked 3 lemon puffs down my neck last night. Fighting my girth again. With boredom comes tidy tidbits cleared away in gusto.
My left leg is aching today, from the top of my calf muscle: feels a little dehydrated maybe a result of those two beers at North?
'How do I look?' said the peroxide blonde fake tanned bint to the highlight haired no. 7 tanned blinged 40 something. She replied, 'hideous my little drag queen.' Follow us to the end of the world now, please?
Pret is very busy at 1:31 on a Friday. I'm sat on the furthest corner with legions of women and just a couple of hopeful men. The chatter of snaring sharpened teeth, symbols of blood torn lust. Vengeful and vicious, viscose and varigated. Sticking together in duels and triples and quartets. What is there to discuss? Why must you always gossip? Your beauty tainted in paper thin transparencies illuminated by the dirty filthy basis of your discussion.
The detritus of 'Metro', 'Shortlist' and 'Stylist' that follows me on my journey. Waste paper, discarded drinks cans, cola bottles, graffiti on the windows and chairs and the dusty, muddy faded seats. The crummy x98 with it's fading purple seats and glum faced brutes. Paping thin wasting away with cracked and yellowed teeth and salt and pepper hair.
I ate all the Ben and Jerry's the night before last and chucked 3 lemon puffs down my neck last night. Fighting my girth again. With boredom comes tidy tidbits cleared away in gusto.
My left leg is aching today, from the top of my calf muscle: feels a little dehydrated maybe a result of those two beers at North?
'How do I look?' said the peroxide blonde fake tanned bint to the highlight haired no. 7 tanned blinged 40 something. She replied, 'hideous my little drag queen.' Follow us to the end of the world now, please?
Pret is very busy at 1:31 on a Friday. I'm sat on the furthest corner with legions of women and just a couple of hopeful men. The chatter of snaring sharpened teeth, symbols of blood torn lust. Vengeful and vicious, viscose and varigated. Sticking together in duels and triples and quartets. What is there to discuss? Why must you always gossip? Your beauty tainted in paper thin transparencies illuminated by the dirty filthy basis of your discussion.
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