The age old or the old age adage…” Power recognises Power.” Finally i found you…Spartakuss
As i was saying…..
It was a good day
I ate good food
I went to school
Food nowadays is credit crunched
School totally sucks
My words are lucking must be the tooth paste am using
that dent…something with no name
But it was good day.
Did i say i signed my celibacy certificate, the monies i make i eat all…the airtime i spend on calling on my self
The conversation is nolonger how are we but rather how am i…
It was a very good day.
She was my prom queen….but i started to doubt and got kicked in loins….
These things they call relationships…I was thinking.
A sudden blow to your loins renders you speechless, you wonder, as the pain starts to intensify, with every ticking moment. Tick, tuck….seconds now minutes, you don’t want to think about hours. But why, why this much pain. All for what. Where did it come from, I mean the pain, or maybe the kick. Why the fight…and I know it’s her, because men can never do such a thing, only if they are not straight. They know the value of having them, may I say.
So it started when you made friends with her, she was your prom queen, nowadays; it’s what they are called. She completed that small cycle of life you had never had. You found reason as to why you should probably annihilate your diet from mess meals to Wandegs cantinas, from the dry bean stew to the mouth watering fries (chips), more reason to have some airtime on that phone. More reason still, to read in the wee hours of the morning night, waiting to catch the 99% on all mtn zone calls. Still more reason to polish your English, lifestyle…in short, you styled up for her.
But she kicked you in the nut, you selfish, self centred jack. Or was it, you never changed, or in trying to morph, you became plastic…you failed to hold her on that plate. To devour her. What happened? So it is not the styling up that have you in pain…its something big…could it be the ex-es. You look like one of those guilty dudes, who attract many women but lucks what they have just kicked. Maybe. Maybe not. But she says she saw you with her, you claimed it was a course mate, or the friend you know who’s a friend to your friend, generally, a friend, and she didn’t buy it. You womaniser s.o.b. you were called. So you got kicked hard in the loins. You are just not compatible.
No, it’s your friends. They are cuter or more handsome than you are, or it’s her friends, they know more about you than she actually knew, you got kicked in the loins. Does it still hurt, I think it’s now minutes…turning to hours…days don’t look good.
Tick tuck, you still trying to decipher what got you kicked. So her friends admire you more, really. Now that’s one for my ears. You brain dead whiz; you know that that is what got you kicked. Sorry. It can’t just be. In the end, you had a will in making a dream that has her in it. Or…you get kicked in the nuts.
It hurts but now a cooling sensation starts to take over. All the time and effort you put in place in trying to find happiness have come to an end with just one kick. Why? You ask. Its just that in the first place, you had to get kicked or rather you had to get kicked, only this time, it wont be very painful an experience but you can’t wait to get that experience of overwhelming pain….then a cooling sensation of freedom. Now they have a voice…
That voice that says, you seen and done it all and you might get kicked real good. Another time.
And I now confirm that I just got kicked. Maybe. Maybe not.
Done and out.
Lifeless they say.
Why death, why.
He meant something
He had something
He gave something.
The thumbs up. The lsat i saw..
Hope we thought.
Michael, that was something, the life you had, the life you gave, now the memories, just memories…I don’t want to believe for if I do, you will stop to be, that person pointing me in the right direction, that big brother I never had, the mentor that never was present, and neither absent. That emptiness, that soulless sucker of life, death, you shouldn’t be given a name…fear, we wont because he still lives in me.