Gloom settles on the deck of The Albion.
Long past dusk,
the stars slowly blink themselves out of the growing sky.
Empty bottles and barrels roll and crash with the waves that scratch wearily at her bough
In her cabin, an Englishman dreams of summer mornings and good wine.
Atop her mast, a tattered rum-soaked flag dances limply, splendidly in the black.
Somewhere far behind her, in a forgotten sky, an Arcadian sun lazily rises.
She sails on course, further into the night.
She dreams of a a brighter dawn.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I've always been a performer.
.
Only problem is that i'm the only one left in the audience
.
And I don't think he's haven't really been paying attention.
..
Not particularly invested in the plot.
..
Probably won't stay till the end.
..
Maybe I'll sneak out in during the interval.
..
Go for a cigarette or an ice cream.
..
Find something more interesting.
..
Oh jesus I wish he'd hurry up and finish.
..
Definitely not worth the price of admission
..
Oh christ just finish already.
..
No one cares.
...
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
I am not a reasonable man.
I am not a calm man.
I relish in chaos as long as I'm in control.
I like being wrong but only if I know it.
I like to write blind.
I like to shout loud.
I like to fight but i don't like to lose.
I like to get drunk and i like to take drugs.
I like to **** girls and I like to fight boys.
Sometimes i like to **** boys and fight girls.
I like to write but i don't like to read.
I like to sing but not if anyones listening.
Normally when i express myself it's just for me.
Just like everything I ******* do.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
She turns up her music because she knows it annoys me.
I push my earphones in as far as they'll go.
Kate Nash 's screeching drowns out the Cranford Nix whispering in my ears.
We sit screaming at each other with our mouths shut.
If I were the bad guy, wouldn't she be bleeding?
If I were the bad guy I'd be out right now with my friends rather than sat with her in her ****** tiny ******* car.
If I were the bad guy , we wouldn't be in this situation.
I wish I were a worse person sometimes.
I wish she was who she says
I touch a broken finger to a bruised knuckle and look over at her dry pale cheeks.
Why isn't she crying?
Why the **** isn't she the one that's hurt.
I think i wish she was.
That would be something.
Jesus give me ******* something.
I don't think I'm the villain of this story but I'm beginning to suspect that I'm not the hero either.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC