Her name was Louise

Her jeans were tight, but tighter still,
Was her gaze
As she stood by the door to the fridge
Holding milk,
As fresh as her face
As cold as her heart
A perfect accompaniment to tea

She waited.

Her look, buckled to the mug
Which now lay fragmented upon the kitchen floor,
Jagged. Hand still on hip. Shards,
Like the noses of hounds, pointed in the air.

Her legs;
Two pillars wrapped in denim,
Stretched shadows dissect the carpet.
She stands there, startled
With her tits hanging out,
And a tattoo on her forehead reading
‘my tits are hanging out’.

Her name was Louise.



Special mention to Ally Howie for ending.

Sugar coated

Oh I’m in love.
In love. Again!
Yes looks don’t change.
It’s her. The same.

Oh I’m in love,
My mouth wet. Dripping!
I hold you close.
Our bodies sticking.

Oh I’m in love,
With you. Just you!
Your one red eye
And greasy residue.
(Am I for you as you are for me?)

Oh I’m in love.
With you alone!
Your sisters’ remains
Drip off my throne.

Oh I’m in love.
Who doubted? Believe!
“A beast of a man”
Cough. Groan. Wheeze.

Oh I’m in love.
In love? Alas!
I fear this love
This love won’t last

Oh I’m in love.
NO. It’s too late!
LOVE IS DEAD.
I masticate.

Oh was that love?
No love for me.
I sit alone.
My donut orgy.

Rant #1

Toilet etiquette

Someone keeps blocking the toilet at work. If you insist on eating a family pack of dairylea & raw mince meat from the cost-cutter discount section, washed down with a pint of Worcestershire sauce every meal time please be considerate to others and remove your Jackson Pollock homage. Dick.

No-one wants to see it. It's disgusting. Once is bad enough, especially in a public place like work; but doing it twice in two weeks is just stupid. What's even worse is that you don't even attempt to clean up after yourself. This gets me mad.

I'm a once a day man. Clockwork. I enjoy this time. I've got a football game on my phone, & I've managed to take Sweden quite far in the World Cup. Next game is against Portugal who managed to beat England so it's a big game. I like playing a half whilst on the loo, it's my escape. This is where trouble occurs. If I walk into a cubicle and I'm greeted with a poo fountain I can't go. Not even in the next cubicle. Why? Because if I go in the next cubicle, I will spend a little more than 5 mins trying to get Ibrahimovic to pull Portuguese pants down. Then when I return to my desk, the vigilant will have noticed I've been away for longer than a wee would take. THEN they might go to the loo and see a toilet paper-mache statue peppered with shit & assume it was me. I can't live life like that. No.

Continuing on from this, I work in a large office. I was the only one in the gents, washing my hands, when in walks one of the bosses. We acknowledge each other & he walks into the cubicle with the fecal shrine in. I know what he is thinking. I can no longer look at him. In fact, I can no longer work here. I quit because someone decimated a toilet. Fuck you.