Tag Archives: life

Mr Tut Tut

I thought I’d succeed this time .

I’d die reciting poetry under my favourite duvet ..

Perhaps listening to music.

Nearly ended up sectioned .

Making the most of a new day.

No serious damage except to my ego.

I’ve never felt so ashamed at failing to take my own life as this attempt.

Why ? Cos I’m still fucking here.

Apologising to people for not wanting to be here.

Time to keep going.

Moving to a new home is a priority..

This house is a poltergeist.

It feeds my need to keep bleeding.

Tired now.

I love my husband

My mommy & daughter.

3 good reasons to state that I’m

Still breathing.

the Meowskies

She gets on with life as a wannabe music journalist,
She’s a charismatic kinda gal.
She likes chilling on Sundays,
She likes reading in the week.
She likes to contemplate owning a goat.
But when she starts to daydream,
Her mind turns straight back to her cat-Tatty Anna

Sometimes I look at her and I look into her eyes,
I notice the way she idolises about  Tatiana with a smile,
sensual lips she can’t disguise.
But she thinks it’s GOAT making her life worthwhile.
Why is it so hard for her to decide which she loves more?
Goats or…
Cats?

She likes to use words like ‘eish man
She likes to use words like ‘sorry.’
She likes to use words about GOAT finds
But when she stops her talking,
Her mind turns straight back to Tatiana having a heart attack.

She likes to hang out with Pinkie
She likes to kick back with Belle,
But when left alone,
Her mind turns  inwards  she obsesses over losing her Tats

She’s not too fond of gossip,
She really loves cheesecake & wants a goat
But she just thinks back to Tatiana
And she’s happy once again. knowing she is owned.

 

So far gone

These are my words. They are all I have.

If you wanna switch off you could

I threw it away

Not realising I would come to call it my most favoured crown.

Fascinated seeing my self riding waves of the guilt

drowned in salt tears of rumination to the hilt.

letting mom down

all my fam too.

Those who truly love me.

There are but few.

Hot damn! That’s better than cool.

Gave self-destruction a permit to ride out a course of self-flagellation

decorated in sleuth

The truth hit me oops upside of my head

Discombobulated -I saw the truth.

I let myself down

I deduce.

Take me back to my roots.

Be nt over crooked

wrung my hands for people who haven’t left my life

Yet

Anticipate gloom & doom.

allow these drum beats to perform

my body afloat

on cloud nine singing cheerfully to the staying alive tune…

Regrettably, I’m responsible for this present predicament.

There goes a fully armed disorderly platoon.

One setback

folded like that grieving widow.

She had a reason

I still have an abode

I’m not a widow.

I’m down on my knees & up off them almost like it didn’t happen

Stood defiant still feeding an outdated superstition

of other motives

This is my prison.

Trust in people

Risk my heart

Yes, It didn’t go my way

This was a time to not fall apart.

A glimmer of hope I’ll grow strong

again

Make mirth and merriment

not misery & disappointment.

I have only one person to blame.

I disappoint myself over and over again

then Surprise myself by what achievements I continue to create.

How am I to play this next move?

escape to another alternative reality – never to bloom!

Or talk about my feelings -is anyone listening?

Cos they have, what is the problem, strewth?

facing all that ‘I feel fat’ STUFF

Makes me wanna holler hey you, cat, scat!

Look me in the mirror & be proud

of my deeds for seven consecutive weeks.

Nor ask my loves to keep turning another cheek.

I’m ashamed.

I am to blame.

I have to fight

My mother is alright. I mean my mother is right.

This half-hearted escape acts

attempts on my life.

attempts to self-harm

They come & they go.

If I can keep this train of thought

the cravings of self-hate might go

come back

less frequently…

Perhaps I will still hold on to some of my dignity

or become a statistic…

We all end up a statistic one way or another

What statistic do I want to come under?

Now there’s a question to ponder over.

Words are my moonshine

When you  feel you’re hanging on the vine,

Remember- a seed push forth a mighty sign.

You must  take the sunbeams and treasure what’s thine

Wild Kansas City is but one destination on the sign.

Take hope, light and lose the animosity,

for inside  you, there is no monstrosity

Get caught speeding in high velocity.

It’s not a train smash —  nor a catastrophe.

When you’re stuck in the middle of time.

Jump off the fence ‘cos that’s doing yourself a crime.

Don’t you let commoners  think your words cannot define,

Your value, worth and dreams are not benign.

Take it from the apple tree

He allows fruit to aid in his victory.

Oh don’t, hide like a willow tree

Cry, but remember you have a destiny.

Everything will start to — lookup —  allow the clouds to throw some shapes.

Open  them wide , mind expand — understand the lessons from life’s true greats.

You’re already one them-slightly chipped — still most valuable of porcelain plates.

Never doubt  what you can do —   take a leaf from natures golden ratio

You radiate when you guide the fates.

Lets’ lasso this  up and keep your spirit wild

Grow tall — never lose your inner child.

A silly poem  to spread to the crowd

Accept her quirks  — light-hearted, silly sap —  never lose a day when she has smiled.

*I Iwas inspired by the song ‘This little light of mine’. live, love, don’t hold as grudge. Remain true to who you are and you won’t stand alone for long.

 

 

i

 

 

 

 

Coalesce

Don’t give up – don’t give in.

Eyes discover you bloated- vomiting up your own sin.

Brain chess- pawn after pawn is taken unjustly,

Black equality doesn’t matter – cognition will conquer what it desires lustily.

Ivory conquests – impure from the acidic bile.

Caffeine alert – simulate all senses –   the target is common -the biggest bargain ransom.

Flogging a dead horse to a blind, muted soul –  cognitive dissonance –

child sings ‘Out comes the sunshine’  in the disguise of a bloomed blossom.

Wasted life.

Wasted wife.

Wasted mother .

Wasted father.

Wasted land.

Travesty lurks spoof like

 We know it is there

 Feet kicking, hiding behind the sofa, giggling childlike thinks it’s invisible.

Unchain my heart.   Hostel bed sores – shine a light on our plight – save us from This saw hand, marked fallible.

Man-made – pharmaceutical drug lords inject a lethal dose of synthetic Gamma wave stationary by product.

Profiteering – collateral damage – no name – no existence mere condensation trickling down a viaduct.

Fight for your life- for your consciousness .

Throwdown the tools of self-destruction

 only ashes to see here

Phoenix bird eloped with the Dodo bird in Act two.

Aristophanes’s – Greek tragicomedy – bawdiness.

 One character stumbles along a plot that emerged in the opening scene of the frenzied laughter (offstage)

Tame that harlot shrew.

Glasses askew – brightness dulled by 1960 tranquilised   blue smurf salesmen.

What do we know of consequences?

When we seemingly have found an answer to a long-held problem of delirium tremor flashbacks from war apocalypse rehabilitation stint-

Take 911!

Hurry or we will need another corporate shaman.

Worry not – reverse psychology.

Worry a lot – trust in the depth of raising questions in philosophy.

I write with no answers,

intelligible at times.

Wondering how to get back to a well-educated mind

who knew how to rationalize.

splitting images

 There goes a notorious caricature of her former self –  ignoring traffic lights and all her accumulated speeding fines.

Slow-release.

Hat trick

Card trick

Fear of bats

Watch the finest disappearing act,

coalesce.

The birth of a Great daughter

It was 13/10/2011. Icelandic temperatures in the U.K. We had zero cash and I was not afraid. Everyone around me; My Nan, my Mom and my Aunt were giving me advice and asking me questions.

“Have a bath. Have sex. Have a curry. Have a bath.  Have a … inundated with many opinions and suggestions

My daughter was still not due until a week later. In one week I had had three stretch and sweeps. My Nan had to give us money for fuel to get back to the hospital.  After my lovely bath, I went to lie down but I felt rather contrary and decided to check back into the hospital. The midwives said I still had at least 5 cm to go.

So we trudged back into our car for the seemingly long journey home.  10 minutes into the drive home, I felt something that I thought could be a contraction. It wasn’t painful but it was consistent. and it was a real ‘feeling’. I turned to my Nan and said I think I may be contracting. The car swerved and headed back to the hospital. At the hospital, the contractions started to pick up in intensity (not sore just an ‘alien’ feeling). The nurses led me to a room and said they would be back with all their midwifery gear. My Mom and my Aunt arrived.

By this time I was going into panic mode because I didn’t know what to expect. I demanded my drugs and started hitting the gas and air (That was all I asked for). If only I  knew how ill too much would make me. I sat on this massive pink blobby ball, bobbing up and down like a  confused Buddha. Mom was massaging my shoulders like I was in the wrestler’s seat ready for round one in the ring. DING! DING! DING!

Out of nowhere, I had the urge to get to the toilet. I don’t want to be vulgar though the feminist in me wants to flip the bird and give all the gory details. We need to get over the fact that birth can be ugly.

Moving on. This immense pressure hit me and it felt like I  needed a shit. REALITY PEOPLE!  Though, it wasn’t the same feeling like the usual order of the bathroom purge. I ran/made a move to go to the toilet and I sat down on it. My mom followed suit   and said to me,

” No grandchild of mine is going to be born on the toilet” so she and my aunt took an arm each and propped me up and headed in the direction of the bed.

I got on the bed and screamed out what I needed to do. I wanted to push.

“PUSH”  they cried.

Okay…. so I pushed really hard. I heard my Mom say,

” I can see her shoulders, push! “

I gave one almighty push that started from my head (with thoughts of ‘ one more push’ ‘body will obey’) One more push and it was ‘SHOWTIME’, I felt her shoot out of me. A chill stirred by my snakelike placenta laying frigid in between my legs.  No cry. The midwives burst in at this moment with a Spanish inquisition manner of urgency about them. All tooled up for their big moment.

“We need to pierce the placenta.” 

My little girl was born in the full sac. My body didn’t even have enough time to send a message to tell my body  ‘waters you may now burst’.

Still no cry.  Then a tiny mew of a cry and they placed her on my chest for a  nanosecond and then took her away to make sure she was in top form. They took my girl to another ward to observe her breathing and to make sure the medication I take had not affected her in any way. The midwives broke my waters!

My Mom and Aunt were clapping like a bunch of sea lions and then kissed me on the top of my head and dashed out of the hospital to catch a bus to London! I almost looked around for any discarded popcorn.

I did grab for the gas and air because my daughter had torn me and I needed to be stitched all the way around like a hem of a skirt. I needed some post-labour-pain relief. The whole drive back to the hospital and the labour lasted less than three hours. My baby girl was born on the 13/10/2011 at 03:15 a.m.

All the other Mom’s were super jealous. The easiest birth ever.  The worst part was actually having to go to the toilet and not scream out in pain when my stitches had been so cruelly awoken. She has never been a hassle from her birth right up to her fourth birthday. She is such

a placid kid, she is always smiling from morning till night. She tells people they are beautiful and she comments on what people are wearing. She sings and dances. She shares. She is so courageous. There is an old wives tale that children born in the placenta sac are ‘special’. Centuries ago men travelling at sea would wear a part of the sac around their neck as a talisman – it was thought that it would give them protection and stop them from drowning at sea.

 So much has happened in my daughter’s 8 years on this planet. People expected you to act like some feral child but no you are the most chilled, charismatic, hilarious, intuitive and smart child I know. I see you blossom and I blossom too. When I hug you to my chest that connection. That surge of emotion puts everything in perspective. I LOVE YOU!  

Our pinkie promise: I promise to love you forever and ever and I will never stop loving you and you will always be my baby girl, pinkie promise.

I know a special girl whose heart is full of sunshine
She dances her way around the world to deliver her own special punchline

She laughs so distinctly that people cannot help but become infected
It is a sight to behold when this observation is detected

She is gracious and kind and is delicately inclined
the phrase 'she is an angel' are the only words that come to mind

Her name means beautiful-that  of body, mind and soul
and to have her touch so many lives confirms her title role

She is my modern day princess -so noble and full of grace
I love her with all my being and she is a person that I cannot replace 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my sweet child. You are the true gift
I found it in your innocent eyes and that was the day my world truly began to shift



Cards against Speciesism

For those who fight to never lose their voice

Everyone can feel like a
Nobody.

All it takes is a dose of creationist bacteria inciting
Ovulation
on grounds
countering against humanity.

Freedom shatters.

Gamblers peddle all the aces
Cards spiral up.

Hands-free
Offers newfound grip on this moment.

Chacha amorous until her blood shrieks out in Latin,

Homer

over and over until  ovaries

Acquaint within earshot of any species pulse

Inertia- vegetate in patouchlia tombstones
Nobody
sheds dull the skin held in chains invisible.

Some body is still

ignorant of a body disappearing into Huxtable ‘s fable.

 

Iris shows off her orderly pupils during regular school hours.

A Rainbow replenishes chakras.

True beauty
Illustrated by the refusal to keep a voice hidden.

Saints need sinners.

New mantra for the forward thinker
Disgrace all pulses without hesitation.

Life moves along

No need for your participation.

Bestiality was invented for superior beings fascination.

 

Goofy Goat syndrome

Mouthwash gargle soprano interlude

Still damned if I do or don’t by my inner feud.

Can’t Darwiniate  like a bird fish off the fly

Nor grow a pair and touch the sky.

 

Sunshine intervenes rubbing in a static state of mind.

If I started to grow and extend a branch – could it be so bad as to what I find?

Life needs nurture – decay -70 pounds of envy watching Nervosa images online.

 

Scales de harmonise ‘we are family’ tune

Burning the bridge -wasting so much of this vessels time.

Come out and play and invest in cherished moments

priceless.

 

Chronic choleric temperament pillaged as  I stand my ground

spasmodic

crisis.

Fits jump to the left -turn your cap back to front, leave me in the wind.

don’t mind a body making a life out of lying down – this vessel scowls out an impediment.

Red Dwarves s fall shortly from the sky.

Blackhole theories bask in the sun,

nebulous erasure

Convince counting blue sheep  makes sense

Only if I’m constantly on the run.

Never  leave currently occupied dwelling

 convinced I’ve spun around the globe and back- too quick to reject love.

Trees I planted.

Trees  I denied oxygen -another one down from the felling.

Breathe of grit

fluoride is the key to mutate this smile.

 

A Disposition in denial.

Government extends VAT -we’re all walking a green mile.

Pencil marks that wooden table – with the view to fraternise with  my education.

Anxiety levels cut off circulation.

 Leaving all my bluds homeless without an occupation.

Distress call.

Look above you for the murmuration.

Gone against my nature – constant dance with eternal damnation.

One theory for all of this

Life straight through to death.

 Most of us become motherless.

 

Sorrowful faces- show me the money.

Natures green lights my path

A scant scent bears purified honey.

Extinction of the masses. Humans never as smart as we think.

 Creator reveals a divine plan

Printed  the golden ratio

No time to blink.

Floppy child syndrome, fetus rest dormant for 36 weeks.

Blood, tears, love -fallibly

selfish

The  side effect  of an action of the seeker

Fear destroys love.

Hate is Its biggest symptom.

 

Ever seen a child frown sliding down into his daddies arms?

rapid growth

we could be forgiven for thinking

Life is a phantom.

 

Feed into reality.

Convinced happiness is closer to any eventuality.

Exacerbate peoples problems sad resolution for those deemed insufferably stupid.

Set the sound wave to my biggest moan: why can’t I be a shade of norm Amish tone?

Constant craving for a   collect call

silence breaks out wind to an unsuspecting receiver.

Heartbreaking words to have everything given

then denounce it was ever mine to own.

 

Where to find lightbulb answers for lightbulb questions?

How can we help you? You are loved.

My husband

I’m going to the source of my labelled diagnoses to find a way to answer this question.

Not to look for a reason to blame why I am like  I am, but so I can ask the right questions to help myself get better.

How can we help you?

Okay. The brain goes dead. How I help myself?

Set small goals for the bigger goals  I want to achieve?

What do I want to achieve?

  • A new carpet.

  • I want to clean the blinds,

  • I want to go through my drawers and  Bee’s drawers to organise our space better.

  • We need a new cupboard.

  • I want to get in the festive spirit.

  • Bring the big T.V.  downstairs.

  • I’m worried about Tatiana’s  ( my cat’s) cough.

  • I don’t want to be a FUCK UP!
  • I need to connect more with my mom and family.

 

All achievable unless its a “bad” day.

Write a list to Santa?  ( my inner Santa)

Being self-destructive is tough (sarcasm & truth).

Not as tough as being an 8-year-old child who doesn’t understand why her mother pushes her away. She is also scared to make her cry or hurt my feelings.

 Not as tough as having an endoscopy and no sedation. Having people talk about going for a pint after work while they look at your bowel.

Not as tough as being alone, having a panic attack & waking up in a hospital alone at 87.

I’m so quick to forget about the mermaids tail & a dog that can do anything ticking off Santa’s Christmas list.

I’m so quick to dismiss time.

Or is that just me looking up my own anus again?

Fluent in assholism

.

How can I save my relationships before its too late?

Am I going through the motions as my husband asked?

A firm NO  takes up all the room in my cognitive region.

Before I answer I think again about if I’m just going through the motions…

Today I am going to look up the definition of  ‘going through the motions

PHRASE

If you say that someone is going through the motions, you think they are only saying or doing something because it is expected of them without being interested, enthusiastic, or sympathetic.

Well, of course, I am going through the motions. That is part of the problem.

Get up, eat, clean, sleep, fill my day.

It’s not because I don’t care. I don’t think about the consequences or I forget the pain associated with the consequences.  Or I think about how to get away from feeling a failure in the now.

Note to self: Don’t do things that will make you feel shit about yourself

It’s not that hard to do, Is it?

Maybe I hesitated before answering my husband because I asked myself if the way I am and response makes me a narcissist.

Well, of course, I am. I have spent many years trying to look good, be the thinnest, the most pretty the cleverest etc…

I know I am not & will never be all the above-mentioned thoughts.

What did that mean for me as an adult with Chronic Anorexia?

I don’t take millions of pictures of myself and think I’m better than other people. When I have judged others I try to look at the shitty things I have done or said in my life to humble myself… I am demanding. I can be selfish. I don’t think I am the best. I want to be the best I can be.

Do I live in a fantasy world?

I have done. I do live in a world where I am the object of desire/ importance to get away from who I see in the mirror, who I feel I have become measured by what I have achieved psychically/emotionally/materially. I use sleep as a defence mechanism to not have to deal with the person I am today. My perception of me.

I know what is real and isn’t unless my thoughts about weight and shame invade my inner world.

I have to wake up from my slumber eventually.  Then I convince myself that the only thing that will make me good & empowered is by proving to people I have the money to buy shit that isn’t worth it.

I put a value on what I pay for & how I want it to be packaged.

I don’t feel I need constant praise from others to keep my ego in check. I do feel I need to give myself praise and try & love myself so that I can come across as a person with feelings, warmth & love.

I do struggle to show my emotions. Perhaps its the way my face moves, or because I don’t lie about how I feel or because I’m shit at pretending to be over the moon about something when I am feeling anything but amazing.

When I’m in a toxic phase I guess I do feel that the world should stop for me. It’s unrealistic to think that the world does. I have to check myself. I need to live more outside of my head than in it.

 

I don’t try to exploit people maliciously for my own gain without feeling shame nor the ability to empathise.  I know how manipulative I can be & I have to check myself a lot to try & not be too manipulative. I do sometimes forget how it must feel like to another person to be taken advantage of.

I don’t think I am a person who enjoys belittling others to prop up my own ego. I hate gossip, I can use patronising language & behaviour if I feel threatened. I don’t enjoy making others feel less than I feel.

I want people to be happy & I want people to know that I can be a source of happiness too.

Maybe I am going through the motions but we all do!

If I said: yes, I’m going through the motions

then that would mean that I am a narcissist!

And according to Google: Narcissists can’t love their own children!

What?

I already feel I lack traits that a normal mother gives her child.

Or because of my eating disorder, I have traits of a “vulnerable” narcissist.

If I look indifferent I am also afraid of being abandoned so I try to prepare myself for that moment.

Most of my relationships are unstable -with my mom. daughter partners etc… I can go from having a high opinion of myself to having zero worth in myself in a matter of hours.

I do need to work on my self-image & habits to self-harm.

I have many diagnoses -I need to use what I know about myself to make a positive change.

I want my daughter to love me in 20 years time.

I’m not a child any longer. I want to be better than I am now.

 

Mrs Thought bubble

This is a surreal piece  I wrote during a surreal time.

It’s about the cruelty of life and how the elderly are treated in Britain. It was inspired by the time I spent with my grandmother in her care home when she had Dementia and Alzheimers.

It’s a stream of consciousness  Short Borderline script.

 

 MRS BRUISED:  “I’m tired”

                                 “I’m tired”

 CARD SHUFFLER: (throws his voice from a table on the left)

                                      “I’m tired too.”

MRS BRUISED:          (sits upright)

                                         “I’m tired”

CARD SHUFFLER:     “Aye? Go to sleep then.”

 (The room fans out into a full house of insidious laughter)

MISS CARDIGAN:   excuse me, Dear, can you tell me where the toilets  

                                    I’ve only just  popped by/

THE WEED: ( Looks around for a sign indicating the Mangers office)

                                         Of course, just follow me.

(THE WEED walks back from the toilets  and goes to crouch down to hold MRS THOUGHT BUBBLES  hand).

THE WEED:             She’s pissed herself. Can someone change her?

THE ROSE:             No, she hasn’t.

GINGER:                (enters) Here you go. Open your mouth?

(GINGER shovels a hefty spoonful of what looks like boiled bagged food) 

THE WEED: (aside) Lost in thought……The smell of piss can’t be worse than death’s kiss…

GINGER:               Here- wah-la!  open your mouth.

  Mrs Thought Bubble’s inner thoughts

 

THE WEED:           Tu es Pleine?

(aside)                 Like an old coffin opening for the first time in a          century;

 MRS THOUGHT BUBBLE:   Pleine.

THE ROSE:               You   are thirsty today.

( Comes back from the kitchen with another full beaker of  red diluted kids juice)

                                     So so thirsty.

THE WEED: (aside) Three empty beakers all lined up in a row – My eyes rest and are ready to aim – trigger happy and ready to blow.

 

                               She has pissed herself, look!

THE ROSE:          Oh you have made a pee-pee Mamie- a pee-pee!

 REGRESSION SOUNDS

 

(chorus) A Nod. A skeleton- face grins

Bright light beams from  Mrs Thought Bubbles eyes.

An Image.

A carved pumpkin with a toothy grin.

Burning away in a dark room within.

More strained laughter churns out lactic acid.

MRS BRUISED : (on a loop)

                              Oh, I am tired. 

BRUNETTE:      Fiddler!  Stop putting your hands down your pants.

THE WEED:     Maybe that is the only way she gets to feel something.

(Legs splayed-  FIDDLER’S fingers explores her vagina hungrily)

MRS BRUISED:       I’m tired.

CARD SHUFFLER:  Yeah me too! Shut up.

(Eyes veer to the table on the left).

 

THE WEED:  Dying flowers  in a glass vase.

                   If I had to throw it would reality become what I once knew it to be?

Jeer me on why don’t you? 

Throw the fucking vase.

Throw it!

How long have those silver wrapped chocolates been  stood there. This is not some fancy New York hotel. 

If they are going to start leaving chocolates make sure you get Hershey’s kisses.

Brown as the shit under neath Mrs Thought bubble’s  nails.

 

THE WEED:  She has pissed herself!

GINGER:      I will go get dessert.

THE WEED: (aside) Does it come in different sex positions? 

                                     Sweet Silence.

                                  One of the toughest spells to break.

                                  No one dares look at the other.

                                Carers go  a drift.

                                Congregate to conflate into  gossip office politics.

THE ROSE:            Go and tell them to change her.

(THE WEED creeps along the  floor until it has found the right door).

THE WEED:               Can someone change Mrs Thought bubble!  She is in her own piss.

MRS HEGEMONY:  Wheres nondescript and the other one too?

Great big sighs. A room full of eyes wondering if the pay they get is worth the time.

The time finally has a stroke and then another and another.

The hoist in all its bluesy hues comes for Mrs Thought-bubble.

 

GINGER:               I’m sorry I got called into the office.

THE WEED:       Look it’s not you. Its just… I am sitting watching Mrs                                           Thought bubble over here, shout out….  and                                                            “she is wading in her own  piss!

THE ROSE:           Let’s go outside

THE ROSE: ( turns to BRUNETTE)

                             Can we take her outside?

BRUNETTE: ( a voice rolls out  like a plush  red carpet)

                         Of course.

 ( BRUNETTE rolls out the wheelchair –)

CHORUS: She hasn’t been outside in over a year.

                    She shouts and protests.

                   Vintage sunglasses are placed on her  to  help process her eyes.

                  Flowers.Bees.Sunshine.Colours.

(More shouts and protests).

MAINTENANCE:  Do you want me to take a picture?

(THE WEED and THE ROSE in unison) Oh yes please.

(Chorus) CLICK !

                  CLICK!

                     Mature cheddar smiles captured against the vines.

THE WEED:  I love you Mrs Thought-bubble.

(Muffled sounds.)

                         I’ll settle for that as an good enough au revoir.

                         Four doors.

                          Four Windows.

                          Four wheels.

                         Taxi takes us very fucking far away from here, please.

THE WEED: (to THE ROSE)     Did you notice that nobody came to clean the chair?

THE ROSE:      Don’t tell me this.

                       Every night I cry myself to sleep 

                          If we move her again she will die.                           

                         Please let her die.

                           Why? 

                            Why?

                             It is beyond my understanding.

Petals start to turn inwards – it’s a crying shame to see rose a  start to wilt.

RED CAP:       There was a sticker attached saying ‘TO CLEAN’

THE WEED:    Oh.

                        I’m sorry.

                         I love you, Rose.

                         I can’t imagine what you are going through.

THE ROSE: (Wilts that tiny bit more)

                         She doesn’t even know who I am anymore.

THE WEED:   I know who you are.

                         You know who I  am.

THE WEED: (aside)

It doesn’t matter if the sun is shining- water will always ignore the air around it. If it wants to pour so it shall.

Tears pour.

Tears break.

 The weed reaches and creeps until it has a secure grip  around The Roses stem.

Hands entwined.

The Weed .

The Rose.

Both look out their own private window.

                            Bee would have loved to see that cow…..

THE ROSE:     ( watered and ready to pose)

                         So tomorrow is a busy day. We have to sort out the cake

THE WEED:   The cake?

THE ROSE:       …the wedding cake?   And We need to find Mr Thought bubble an outfit  for the wedding.

THE WEED:    Is she actually allowed to come?

THE ROSE:        Madam  Hegemony, says it is fine.

THE WEED:    (flat)Oh, Cool. I wonder did we tell the cake makers that we changed the theme from sunflowers to yellow roses?

THE ROSE:     Yes! We are just having yellow icing on normal    flowers..

 THE WEED:     Oh… like the colour on our invitations? 

(Stationary).

THE ROSE:      See you tomorrow.

THE WEED: Mint, Yes.. tomorrow… (as an after thought)

THE ROSE:   10:30, Don’t be late.  We are getting threaded first.

                        Have you got the Bee’s shoes?

THE WEED:  Yes Mam.

THE ROSE:    I swear if you had loads of money in this town you still                                           wouldn’t be able to spend it.

                        It’s all bullshit

(from) THE HORSES MOUTH:

                    And so the earth continues to travel around the sun.

                    The sun goes down.

                  The moon is full-faced and all fluttering eyelashes.

                  And  I still have a long face.

                 Nothing but everything changes.

Nay,

Neigh!

Horses don’t talk.

Neither do flowers

Horse manure.

Bullshit.

Jut another day in ‘I wonder what the fuck  next land?

Just an average day in an average Care home.

 

Image Francecsa Woodman