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MY PAGE...MUWAHAHAHAHHA!!!..*and calm*
ten...nine...eigh...
*sighs*..start from five..
..four...thre-
I said from five not four..
..two...one..
R U EVEN LISTENIN TO M....
*crowd rises up an screams..sumfin like* AHHHHHHHHH..*with occaisional faints*
*blushes...knees turn blue with lack of blood*
*silence*
...um hello..??
*again*..AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!..*sexy man at front faints..well gets knocked out by a packet of peanuts but thats not the point!*
*debbie runs off stage*..here how the hell did a stage get...never mind?
*peeps head out*...*commence scream*..*peeps head back in*...*scream stops*...*thinks*...*peeps head back out*...*screams start again*..*peeps head back in and the screams stop*....*does this for the next 15 minutes*
*finally jumps on stage an slides *trying to immatate a 50's rock legend...lacks grace..falls and knees go purple*
HELLO JOOLIA BUBBBBLE!! WOOHHHHHOOO!!!..*dances...at least tries*
*joolia walks in*...debbie do u hafta do that now..its four in the mornin!!...
*still dances*
...an i'm not sure its completely sain...
*falls..again*
...or safe??
<<BACK TO REALITY>>....sori i'll stop.
sooo....wot to do???..ummm....*scratches head*...oh!! I got it...*footsteps getting distant*....*faint rumaging....and a bang*....aha!....*footsteps coming back*...so here...a little part of me..*rubs head absentmindedly wer a bumps starting to form*
My wee book of poetry....keep out...oh sori it says that on the front cover...*misty fade out to a young girl in the prime of her youth ...on a hill*.....and??
THE HILLS ARE AAAAAAAALLIVE WITH THE SOOUND OFF MUUUSI....sori it was the scenery i got carried away...back to poetry...
ahem....*dont forget to imagine a dusty old comedy club with improvised music and a random dude occaisionally saying 'YEAH'....possibly to his dealer but who knows??
I begin...
title.... The Perfect Plan
Had I the voice of reason would I love,
Or just responsibly tick the requirements on my list,
Tall, smart, businessminded
Good genes? Fertile?
On down the road awaits,
My stainless steel, tupperware
Three for a pound-'thats a bargain',
Love.
Or the ever versatile passions,
The young artist who first stole my heart at 18,
And my wallet at 19.
Neither holds the definition I require,
Maybe my black on white words
Have blocked life's detailed grey.
Yet still, wot is the definition of love.
Respect, trust, kindness;
Normality at its best.
Or its lust infested
Hormone fuelled counterpart.
Whos emotions change at a speed an ostrich couldn't catch.
A passing thought of genius,
Outrun the lust filled halfwit,
Whos envy rising heartbeat is the piston of his libido.
To an undefined land,
Where love's question does not exsist,
To torment and pry.
Breeding, questions and worries.
A simpler existence.
Now what to do about sex??
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