A rebel without a clue.

And she's doing cuts and colours... A rhythm of chops, shears, snips Complete in vibrant gloss style Us women eating gristle and skin Puckering with blood stained lips A cuticle removed by rusting file Rouge tinged cheeks hiding. Why do we sleep? What does it do to our hopes and dreams? It always seems so hard to get, yet we find ourselves there in a second without our knowledge. I have always wondered when sleep comes; in which disguise. While I lived with Glenn we went to Prague for a few days the first week of September. We arrived at the Czech Inn , our backpackers in Vinohrady, on a Tuesday evening around 10pm, having taken the usual bus and tram route from the airport. We were very excited to have ventured out on Jet2 at such a handsome price, this is before budget airlines added lots of additional costs, and had only paid £50 return. Once we'd chucked our baggage in the shared dorm on the 1st floor, quickly saying hi to our room-mates, we went down into the ...

I am out of the tunnel. Into the bright. I can see the distant lights. I no longer peer from the reverse end of binoculars at the world. To touch the sun and not get burnt is the quest. It is our only rational god. It appeases our daydreams as it shines on our barnets. The anti-D's are registering I think and also the persistant nice weather helps: I can hear the merry singing of a song Thrush. Baby it's alright. It's alright. Sarah Blasko. I'm dipped in the murky and shady underworld of espionage during WW2. We were desperate not to lose all to Nazi Germany. We played games in Washington just to persuade FdR, etc to save our broken corpse and in the long run also save the USAs bacon whilst at the same time the Germans and Russians were both striving to keep the Americans as isolationists. It exposes the many layers that Britain has that're fundamental to it's body politk. The many faceless gentlemen club members who schooled at Eton, worked thr...

What a messy day sunday was: all day in bed. I didn't feel quite normal until 3ish and only left the house at 3:30. Water, cider, water, cider, cider. Chelsea poor, season done and dusted. Home at 8pm for a slap-up dairylea and ham warburton-a-thon. Guess who is there: Snoops. A whole day early, nice. Feel happy with a few chance encounters this weekend that make me feel a little less abandoned entirely. On Sunday I was most impressed with C. Such a fruity and lusty thing. A plaything with pendulous breasts with a deep inviting cleft between and a right curvaceous body and a nose twinkling with delight. Hair off red turning violet or deeper crimson. Just loves to tell stories in a giddy prose. Lucy Saturday: short platinum blonde with full pouting lips and wonderful hips. I catch a glimpse of laced white bra and the swell of her charms. My eyes linger. She has bright blue eyes that sparkle in the afternoon light. She is a prize. I forgot my bank card so 1 pint then back for a r...