Boy wonder, twenty twenty is gone. I am now alone in the house with two vile creatures with foul mouths terrorising me and my younger two sons. How dare you swear in front of my children. Be quiet. Who the fuck are you bitch ? Don't speak to me in that way.
I am afraid.I am not brave. My mouth is motivated by the need for calm as I have a six year old and sixteen year old to protect.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Where's that c u n t - but they didn't use the gaps.
Yes I opened the door to find two leather clad black men with scars down both face, and shaven heads and earrings, standing hands on hips on my red doorstep in the hot sunlight.
Where's that cunt - where's that fucking cunt ?
My neighbours are sitting in their flower filled garden, eating finger food, sipping wine and playing with their children with a small multi-coloured ball that rolls down the path towards my front door. The two year old toddler begins to run after the rolling ball towards the men with scars. Come in I say.
Where's that cunt - where's that fucking cunt ?
My neighbours are sitting in their flower filled garden, eating finger food, sipping wine and playing with their children with a small multi-coloured ball that rolls down the path towards my front door. The two year old toddler begins to run after the rolling ball towards the men with scars. Come in I say.
Boy wonder turns into Olympian athlete with the knocking of the door
Knock knock who's there - friend or foe.
I wondered who had the damn audacity to knock with such audacious vigour on my cottage door in the Worcestershire countryside,where peace and quiet and calm are in abundance.
I wondered who had the damn audacity to knock with such audacious vigour on my cottage door in the Worcestershire countryside,where peace and quiet and calm are in abundance.
One Sunny August Bank Holiday Afternoon.
One sunny Bank Holiday August afternoon, our peace and tranquility was blown apart by loud bangs on the front door.
Three brothers sitting watching tv together, aged 6, sixteen and 20. Twenty Twenty has been living away from home for almost four years and feels he now wishes to come home and be a part of the family of three boys and Mom.
I found it hard to believe ,but hey, he's my boy and I love him and always hope for the nightmare to stop, so why not give him a chance, again.
Three brothers sitting watching tv together, aged 6, sixteen and 20. Twenty Twenty has been living away from home for almost four years and feels he now wishes to come home and be a part of the family of three boys and Mom.
I found it hard to believe ,but hey, he's my boy and I love him and always hope for the nightmare to stop, so why not give him a chance, again.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
A never ending monologue
It's hard to recall the spiral downwards - but it's here for me and your brothers to see in all its glory.
Euphemisms permeate your life
Euphemisms permeate your life
I'm you with a cock Mum
One of my beloved eldest child's favourite phrases -
remember I'm you with a cock Mum- and don't you ever forget it.
I haven't don't worry.
remember I'm you with a cock Mum- and don't you ever forget it.
I haven't don't worry.
The Great Story Teller
Oh come on, he's not all bad- well I never said he was bad- just that his actions are bad- but then I get caught - how can I separate out the egg from the yolk, the actions from the man, and at 32 he is a man.
He's not bad - maybe -well what the hell is bad ? He prides himself on telling me he's got the same birthday as Hitler -I don't even know if it's true. But his intent is to disturb me. That fact is like butter melting on toast to me these days, like a kite soaring off into the sky ; his stories are just that- meandering narratives filled with imagery that does not chime with me, and are erased in a moment by the wind. He's full ofbullshit.
He's a greatstory teller. He's got a highly wired imagination and he knows how to mine it.
Oh yes, he is the great pretender.
I'm dead. Yes, really.I've died many a time;this is because at some point or other, over his 16 years of drug abuse, he's needed some feeble excuse or other to drown the fact that he cannot be arsed to turn up for the latest fantastic job he's recently acquired with his charm and charisma.
He's not bad - maybe -well what the hell is bad ? He prides himself on telling me he's got the same birthday as Hitler -I don't even know if it's true. But his intent is to disturb me. That fact is like butter melting on toast to me these days, like a kite soaring off into the sky ; his stories are just that- meandering narratives filled with imagery that does not chime with me, and are erased in a moment by the wind. He's full ofbullshit.
He's a greatstory teller. He's got a highly wired imagination and he knows how to mine it.
Oh yes, he is the great pretender.
I'm dead. Yes, really.I've died many a time;this is because at some point or other, over his 16 years of drug abuse, he's needed some feeble excuse or other to drown the fact that he cannot be arsed to turn up for the latest fantastic job he's recently acquired with his charm and charisma.
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