Anger holds hands

Anger; hot in my hand.
Ready to hurl this grenade.

Hot head, exploding
And that mouth, those lips,
All of a whir;
Angry, white slashes
One evil tongue.

Small noise calls,
A misplaced sneeze

And the mind it begins..
Oh run run running.
Bang. Dead. Shit.

I killed her with a look.
Good thing that,
Amidst raging bulls,
I have Guilt;
Always my loyal friend.

To tick or not to tick

Was just reading a post from heavily lies the crown, and it’s pretty much what I’ve been thinking/feeling today. Been filling out my UCAS form, along with writing a load of inflated over confident crap for my personal statement so that the universities will just throw themselves at my feet. Beg me to go to [...]

Unasleep

Sitting, lying, stagnating in the insidious air of sadness, syrupy thick consistency leaking into my bones. My very being saturated to the centre. Depression written through me like Blackpool rock without the bright lights.
I wish I could sleep. Get some shut eye.