Time Of The Month

Me needs a rant. I have come back home, been received back into the warm, Internet-fuelled glow of home... and what do I find? Only that my sister is fucking sleeping in my bed. Why can't we just have ONE beautiful, unforgettable night together, the double-bed and I? The Libertarian was visiting me as usual yesterday, and I sleep marvellously in his arms (and generally better when he is present), but otherwise, my thoughts scrabble about like overexcitable rats in a maze to the potentially chart-busting sounds of my fridge whirring and making sudden loud popping noises, unexpected semi-explosive clanks of the radiator and idiots being themselves in all their glory outside my window. Let's not forget the joys of living in a student house - one person uses the water in any way whatsoever, and the plumbing broadcasts it to you like a delightfully primitive version of Twitter: 'L--- is washing her hands', 'J----- has just taken a piss,' 'L--- is preparing the veg for her usual 12 a.m. supper. Please insert fork violently and repeatedly into delicate brain matter as required'.

Music shall not be made (the music of I, yes, that is ME, SLEEPING FOR ONCE and also occasionally breaking wind) between the sheets, because MY FUCKING SISTER IS THERE.

One of my best friends, quizzically: 'Isn't your sister married?!'

Well, exactly. So here is a poem from 2004 to keep me going. Thank you to all ye who commented on the passing (now official) of my laptop. I ONLY BOUGHT THE FUCKER IN 2007, IT HAS EMERGED! FUCK YOU, Fujitsu Siemens. Fuck you *shakes head*. I just keep hearing 'Buy a Mac, they never get viruses.'

Yes, and live on water and whatever has fallen onto the carpet until I graduate. Instead, here I am, back at home just so I can apply for a Master's and write an essay. :-(


Time Of The Month
I hate it here. Everyone’s cheese to my grater
I want to shred them and rip them up like
Balls of scrunched scrap paper. Get AWAY from me!
I’m offering no leniency. If you plan to get
What you want, then leave, annoying me, like
Spilled water drops on an oil-coated surface,
Dream on. The burn marks will stay with me
Scars of trying to keep my anger on a steady simmer
When it longs to boil over; the lid rattles
The pot that is my face strains; copper glows
Becoming brick-red. How much more should I take?

Don’t piss me off. The temptation to pluck you
Between finger and thumb, then toss you away
Like so many unwashed clothes comes. But you’re
A waste of space; hell with it, I’d rather flick you
Or kick you. You sit smugly in my place with
A look of challenge. Do you want me to rip
It off, and use it to clean my shoe? I’ll wring
Tears aplenty from you, like blood between my thighs.

Put you through a mangle; I’ll bend you to my will
Like Yuri and his spoon, only smoother, pernicious.
Tell me; how do you like your humiliation?
Ritual, indelible, or just well done? You answer
The question, I question your answer, since like
A used-car salesman, I’m master of my craft.
I deliver. Retribution. I know how to pull a spin,
Constant is my aim to kill. Manipulative and
Mendacious incubus. I am as a little fire-cracker,
Tailed as a tadpole, smashing brightly on the pavement.

I’ll dabble in wordplay, teasing out my tongue
Supple and thin; all the better to lash you with.
My gut seems to contract and squeeze, burping
Out more crunching aches. This discordant rhythm
Is echoed in the auto-ignition of my fury at
The slightest frisson of friction. Frustrated and
Irritated, because I always feel unclean!
Take care that you never dare cross a girl
Of sixteen when she’s menstruating.

P.S.: The best agony uncle ever is back! Bow down, bow down! REEEEESPECT!

And FOR ALL YE COMIC FANS (the Watchmen movie is out this year! Hyperventilate, hyperventilate).