my Friday the 13th = my birthday

well, my son woke me up, maybe, or did i wake up before, just before him, i did….tired friday morning after having spent most of the day yesterday lunching outside, it was what i called a scottish spring and when the sun is out, so is everyone out in hte streets and the park, god, fuck me, botanic gardens man, when backpipes go horny tweety loveley dovely, dovey man, what is not to love about getting your head out in the sun.

you always love the rain, the soft one, the one, that us didiies, we moan about it, it is just stunningly soft, a blur of a rain drop, so it ias, as my mates, thee students, all jedi wannabees, we even enjoy, you know what, fucking beautifull snow, snow, covering it all, in a coat of glory nighty fun and magical ahead.

so birthday girl, had a joint, fuck me, five months without sexe, a eveneing week, month, xmas break up, what a way to start, single, soon to sell the big issue, maybe with my kids, hold on, their dad is not an ars, we do lack a lot of love, from my heart, so, i have my guitare, my peint brushes, my brain, ma ass, my familly and my firends, they tell me i am silly stupid, but yes, i believe that they wil help me if i needed something as they always have, truly, they always have(and that s what we do, do we not all) i m just a moany bitch, i, like my mum, forget how fast and stupidly crazy we ought to be, so, gandi major fucked up, i hope you covered it up, coz, shite man, i do not write because i am not jane austeen(scared of not fining traves of love in her life

daft punk is shimmering my body, and today, for my birthday, the nicest present, i was alive, and someone, nicelly gave me like, some note books, on my desk, thank you for the present sent,

they say, fuck , don’t i know about taboos, the big ones, all of them, why do i have to know even pains from friends, pain i thank fuck did not feel, and that is what they all like, that, nope, to emphatise, feel something deeply and truly, you do not want to not ever know what it feels like, and well, yeh , ok, lucky me, i always knew, i never wanted anyone else, to feel, what i felt, so heartbreak is universal, thank fuck for that, i do not feel lonely, wtf, it does not help? no fuckin kidding man? does it? nope, you know what does

when it is your birthday, you see your kids, happy, you write your journal, a writer, come one, on, you have to say, write on your birthday, especially if you are heart broken, it s friday, thank the lord, friday, at last, at long last, i may get some rest, a nap, even, do i what, cofee, a bit of weed, like half a joint, no medicine, it has been three days, already, just mine, because it is starting, i ve lost weight, cool, i am sexy, LOL

i went to do my garden routine, i kick a ball, a bucket, i take a stick, i found lots of sticks, so funny, after calling myself sticklessyuna, the kids had their yoppy balloons, you know, they sit and jump and find it hilariously great.

so, there was this thick and heavy one, and, why, because i thought i was killick, from a video game, yepy, i inflicted a smash hit on thee blue balloon(do not ask me why i felt the need to let my anger go), of course, i got mixed up, for a start i was yuna, and not kilik, and second, kilik has something more like a broomstick rather than that motherfucking , boy, did it hurt me, when it backfired to smash my face, fuck me, it did so hard and heavy, i thought i was bleeding to death, nose smash giggle, huney boney/buneys and magic pink ears, yumy or delight, my deelight not because i hate that, when i am in love, shatters any hope of Antonio Banderas to slip into ma Bed……………………..fuck Cupidon on this eve of SAint Valentin

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s