”So, I’m looking in the mirror and I realize how futile it all is.”
”Well, my eyebrows are uneven, my hairline recedes, my nose is too big, and you can count the chicken pox scars with two hands. Tom Cruise I ain’t.”
”Tom Cruise has money.”
”And that’s the problem.”
”Perhaps some slow breathing will sort you out.”
”That’s how I’ll find wealth?”
”Um… yeah, sure.” Continue reading
There is a hole in my head, it’s leaking out my thoughts.
There is a hole in my head, and it’s sucking in my hair.
There is a hole in my head, and it lights up in the sun.
There is a hole in my head, I check it with a mirror.
There is a hole in my head and it follows me around.
There is a hole in my head, but you can still see my flesh
There is a hole in my head, and nothing can be done.
No hat, no comb over, no oils can take away that fact.
When I threw the brick at the back of his head, I wasn’t really thinking of the result. We were walking along the canal on a misty Sunday morning, and there it was, a lone brick lying in the mud. My hands kinda just gravitated towards it, and as quickly as I held it, it was gone, hurled towards his curly twirly hair. There was a thud, and then there was the fall. I knelt by his body and watched the blood flow out from his bald patch, stroking the brick as I did.
I didn’t bother asking if he was okay, there didn’t seem to be much point. Continue reading
It’s just the same as rotting meat and dirty clothes these days.