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*This is a blog post. *Strong language etc. "Do not go gentle into that good night" (Dylan Thomas). Smell. Perhaps one of our more overlooked senses.
She awoke, the cold light of morning creeped through the drapes as if it were planned to rise her from the cold dead she sleep she bestowed onto herself, bottle still in hand, third night in a row.
#Truestory haha check profile picture. I've never had any plants, I really don't see the point. But for 99p at homebase, I probably shouldn't go there after a joint.
#acrostic N ow let me take you, to my little town, E ars are everywhere, and most W ear a frown.
#sundayrepost I have a fear, that my alarm wont go off, or i wont hear its familiar sound, in the morning i may miss my train on the London Underground.
The sun shone down on me As I crossed the street And I saw a stranger wave to me And I smiled and carried on with my day.
#sundayrepost (I've also edited it a bit) He was brought up in care Where a head start is rare His self worth was smashed Always did things for cash He was caught up in a lifestyle Making most want...
Dear neighbours, please do shut up, 'Cause I want to have a nap, All this shouting and this drilling, And that ever-dripping tap, Music is okay, but this.
Amidst a broiling sea Of beautiful people, A tide of every creed and colour Lithe and shining in ecstasy I stop and stand to stare.
#acrostic #demimonde. Demented sick twisted. Everybody this girls hedonistic. Mystic in her intrinsic displays. Insatiable is her appetite of. Men and their wage. Occupational health hazard.
Walking through the crowded streets, Benches taken, no free seats. Sun beats down on all our heads, Rising from our unmade beds. Cramped yet dainty, life here seems, Architecture rises from my dreams.
*Blog post = bad language. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. (Robert Frost) Something strange happens in London when it snows, things appear a little different.
The door closed with a creek and clicked shut behind him, considering his tardiness you'd think J would be in more of a rush.......but he wasn't , J couldn't give two shits for his job, or anything...
Waking in the morning, my alarm didn't call, as I look off my bed, the clock broken from the fall.
In the park, a few blocks from the shopping centre, and a few blocks from the library, was a bench. It was a very old, worn down bench.
Standing at the automatic doors, Hearing laughter and uproars. People walking everywhere, There's little room; where's the air. Bags of all the different sizes, Full of objects, gifts, surprises.
*bad language. *bad morals. This is a blog...I'm going to blog now. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I’m seldom awoken by the birds singing at my window, and today was no...
Every day starts the same old way. Birds singing in the month of may. The suns shining over buildings. Waking the millions. Brewed coffee sits in the pot.
Today I walked past another homeless man. Or perhaps it was the same homeless man as I see everywhere. I don't think I would know, I don't pay attention. This man asked for money from me, change.
There are days When life just seems so shitty. When animals are preferred over people's company.
The world it consumes you. And of that we cant deny. I try and try to keep up. And the people they pass by. So hard when youre alone. No one to turn to when you talk. And try and try as I might.
Reading papers, mobile phones, train delays, people moan. From his crouched inebriation, Pissed and unsure of his destination.
#nightdwellers Graffiti....an art that gives life to the street, a story told on a canvas of concrete. The crack houses are known but hidden from sight, dealers do business under the shade of...
A fake smile. As blatant as a crooked smirk on the face of a weathered man. His hands tell the story of days gone by. Rough, ragged and torn. Forever a slave to societys toll on reality.