"bulldogs" poems
We were teammates
We suited up
We showed up
We weren't stars
But we rolled in the dirt
With the best of them
Our blood ran red
Like the rest of them
Our sweat tasted salty
As the most athletic of them
Wounds and bruises
Ached like the most
Stalwart of them
We were Bulldogs!
We anted up our
Gifts and talents to
Forge a winning season
A flair for humor
Wry observation,
Encouragement, fortitude
And intelligence were as
Valuable as speed,
Agility and strength
We all pined for the
Affection of cheerleaders,
Bandmembers and the
Adoration of fans
We equally joined
In the chorus of
locker room banter
And honored the
Confidence of camaraderie
Such intimacy bares
We endured thankless
Adversity, while wending
through anonymous toil
As brothers
We grudgingly drank
From the vile cup of defeat
And passed the chalice
Of victory among us
To share the savory
Taste of triumph
As champions
The Duke of Wellington
Said “the battle of Waterloo
Was won on the fields of Eton”
I trust my teammates and
Not forgotten friends
Tasted sweet victories of
Happiness and success
As they coursed through
Their prodigious fields of life
And at games end
I hope their heart swelled
With pride to know they were
A beloved and Valiant Bulldog
David Irving Korsh #75
BCSL Champion 1973
Rutherford Bulldogs
Well done Valiant Bulldog
God bless and Godspeed
Music Selection:
Bruce Springsteen
Thunder Road
5/5/18
Puyallup
jbm
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
She keeps asking what he does,
though his answers are recycled:
French bulldogs, paintball,
a seventh-grade broken nose.
The basket of fries between them
feels like an interview.
She teases about sweat-stuck bangs,
neon-laced Docs,
his faux leather squeaking when he moves.
Her smile forgives empty stories,
softens each silence.
Condensation slips down her glass,
her knee brushes his,
a spark he does not catch,
his throat working like a valve.
The door opens, closes,
a draft carries smoke and cedar.
distant wildfires.
Outside, a truck unloads shrimp.
A box bursts on the pavement,
pink shells and thawing ice
sliding into gutter water.
Curses flare into the alley.
Engines idle.
Hydraulics hiss.
The stoplight clicks red to green,
green to red,
its metronome louder than either of them.
Somewhere past Brockway Summit
a ridgeline blooms orange.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 4:52 PM UTC
hi dudes
i am in a good mood, i am doing the bbq tomorrow
and i tipped
kangaroos over essendon kangaroos won
adelaide over st kilda adelaide won
hawthorn over melbourne hawthorn won
GWS over carlton, GWS won
sydney over geelong, sydney won
west coast over gold coast, west coast won
and if fremantle beat western bulldogs
and collingwood beat richmond
and port adelaide beat brisbane
i have tipped all the winners of this round
i am doing the bbq tomorrow in kippax
hoping i grab the second full winner
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 8:37 AM UTC
Waking, pale sun burning away the smoky remnants of my dreams of you.
These memories of delightful daydreams.
I create a universe where your spine is steel and our love is a featherbed in a castle.
Our heat fills the cold stones
as greyhounds and bulldogs share the halls with young boys laughter and the smells of tea and toast.
I know you devour me while I sleep
the same way I consume you while you bathe,
soaking up every fold and freckle,
memorizing every precious contour.
Waking, your pale skin burning away
shadows of the past,
my strong hands rest on
your waiting hips.
The boys and dogs come tumbling into our morning oasis with bony little elbows and bad breath and laughter like heavens manna.
This is my now.
You are my forever.
We are eternal.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
There's a broken banjo in my birthright,
It was tied to were I wonder
Hidden between John Henry's Hammer,
and the hobbling post on Humble Hill.
I've walked this far on the blame in my grit,
pushed to by tailwind sunsets,
So kick me a mea culpa kneejerk
hardball, and sandstone my stonewall.
Forget storms in the cradle,
I found dustbowls in my waiting room,
Chasing rabbits in a wordwind,
plinking at the vermin as
they rolled into town with the rest of us,
***** but soaring, Carrion pigeon in the clouds
not getting caught up in admiring the reflections
in all the silver linings,
Just... Flying.
narcissus couldn't manage
the glory of wax work wings.
But Icarus knew real beauty.
He felt it.
When he hit the ground
The heat of floating zeroes
blasting his broken bones
into the obsidian of desert floors...
See, angels can be as jealous as God.
Anywhere can be as lonley as the long plains
of Kansas,
Empty canvas trampled by dog and pony shows
as cowboys rode mules muddy miles
through ****** brambles
to drive herds of bulldogs and lions
from the hunting grounds of dragons
to the safety of home
from High, High, Horses.
Under the shadows of eagles.
But the devil never waits at the crossroads, people.
He lays in lies.
And six shooters,
Under Dog Collars,
with the blood and scars
of everyday life,
and the beaten bodies of
seraphim, fallen to **** the well,
with their phoenix ash.
Sheep and shepherds are never friends,
Ones happiness is the other's hunger.
Dont get me wrong, wolves get hungry too,
But at least their honest about the arrangement.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
Mile after mile
the endless motorway
spews out its metal contortions
hum your V6 engine
rock with impatience
under branded lime-green
sun strip protectors
brimming with breeders
of brooding black BMWs
7-seater convertible prowess
gleaming off-roaders
go faster striped boy-racers
silver slick steamroller Range Rovers
revving executive supremacy
nestled annoyingly
behind a Grand Jeep Cherokee
all stop in motion
by a pedestrian button
for a little old lady
with shopping,
And me.
So many people
in so many cars
gas guzzling
un-muzzled bulldogs
drooling to be first
the excesses of acceleration
the freedom to roam
to gloat or to garner
well you can all stay in line
with the press of a button
and a finger like mine
Moses in green spandex
parts the Metal Sea
for a little old lady
with shopping,
And me.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 11:15 AM UTC
Taking long drives,
Through these country roads,
Catching butterflies,
And memories along the way,
Taking advantage,
Of the nicest of days
Dipping our feet in the sea,
Of sheer iciness,
Instantly feeling like needles,
Prickling our toes,
But we keep running as far as we can,
Holding hands,
as we go.
Eating a lemon top,
In freezing cold weather,
Not a single care,
When we're together,
Villages, pubs,
And countryside,
Our two hearts,
Will be full inside.
Even as summer passes through,
We always go back,
To that cosy shelter,
Whilst you're wearing 3 layers,
And my best sweater.
Birthday on the London eye,
Trying to count the bowler hats,
From up in the sky,
And seeing how many bulldogs,
Walk closely by.
Queuing for hours on end,
But filling in that empty void,
We call conversation,
Psychotic bond,
No hesitation.
I remember at the royal wedding,
As they passed by,
New princess with her dress sparkling,
I whispered in your ear,
You look much more beautiful, my darling.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 6:32 PM UTC
Who is this old man sitting in the tattered old chair,
Yelling French at Mad Dog Vachon,
Bragging about the Crusher's capacity for beer,
Chortling at the desolation of the British Bull Dogs?
Smoking his cigars to their very ends in his old pipe,
Spitting plug tobacco juice
Mostly in the can beside us as my Grandma gags....
The French they speak to each other
Should include requests for pardon....
This raving lunatic is my Grandpa Charles,
And I am five and six and seven,
Sitting on his lap,
Believing every word the Gospel truth:
Seeing Vachon as the savior of French Canada,
The Bulldogs for the evil nation they proclaim,
Kegs of beer as quantities strong men crush.
This old Frenchman whose horse days are done,
Who barely knows to sit still
Though he is a passenger now,
Beside my father...
Knows magical tricks to stun and spell me:
Pushing his teeth out with his tongue,
Leaking smoke from his ears,
Tamping burning coals with his thumb...
An old man who refuses to be old,
Who sits and raves at wrestlers on TV.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Women’s afl
Round 1
Geelong. 3. 6. 24
Collingwood. 3. 5. 23
Bulldogs. 2. 6. 18
Adelaide. 1. 11. 17
Kangaroos. 7. 10. 52
Carlton 2. 4. 16
Fremantle 9. 5. 59
Melbourne 8. 7. 55
Brisbane. 4. 5. 29
GWS. 4. 3. 27
Some very close games
Shows that women’s afl can be very exciting not as high scoring as the men but the women played very well
Well done to Geelong bulldogs kangaroos Fremantle and Brisbane
The champions are upon us today
Each game was exciting to play
Each team played well but only one winner is allowed
Unless it is a draw
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 2:52 AM UTC
I am the walrus walking, with Lucy in the sky with her diamonds, talking about going to Mr. Kites show tonight and then we'd have dinner at the Octopus's garden in the shade with Father MacKenzie. She said that Rocky raccoon was going to be at the show too and I remembered that Lady Madonna will stay for a bit if she earns enough money. I bet you didn't know that Sgt. Pepper's lonely hearts band will be there to play a bit. They are going to arrive in the yellow submarine with the nowhere man. then they are going to strawberry fields to play. I am going to meet up with them tomorrow at Abbey road and then go visit Jojo with them. From there we'd go to play for the Blue meanies and their bulldogs. What a wonderful place Beatle world is, but I have a ticket to ride the Magic mystery bus back to reality. Too bad I can't stay awhile longer!
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 6:43 PM UTC
Did you know that where you were born the water goes down the plughole in the other direction?
I don’t suppose you do know because you’re still rather small.
And also, why would you have noticed?
Did you know that you were born somewhere with no reason to fear spiders?
That although ugly their bites would cause no harm
And also that you were born to a land with no koalas?
Did you know that the sun didn’t feel as much heat where you were born?
That people wore wetsuits to go in the sea
And beaches were more often walked down than lay upon?
I hope that this you do know
And that now you’re there you know to play in the sand
And feel your feet in the sea
Did you know that where you were born people barbequed only in the summer?
And in winter where you were born snow fell and lakes froze?
You’ve seen snow before, did you know?
Did you know that where you were born there’s no eucalyptus or kangaroos?
What we do have is squirrels, badgers and bulldogs
And a lot of cold rain
Did you know that you’ve been to the queens house?
Have you noticed that the Queen makes you seem nearer?
Because even with the distance our Queen is your Queen
We can both call her ‘The Queen’
Did you know that when you were born Mummy was more worried about losing your woolly hat than wearing sunscreen?
It was so cold where you were born that Mummy couldn’t feel her fingers
And Daddy always wore jeans
I bet you didn’t know that where you were born people ate yogurt and pasta
That yoagurt and parsta were not spoken of
And people asked how you were, not how you were going?
Did you know you lived your first year in a country the whole world was looking at?
You probably don’t remember the Jubilee or Olympics
But you were here whilst the world was watching
There’s a lot of things you might not know
But one day you’ll realise perhaps you did know
For just because you’re upside down now
We’re still here
And we hold your memories of the land where you were born
But meanwhile whilst you’re there
We’ll be loving you
Which is really no different all the way over there
Than it is here, where you were born
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 5:40 AM UTC
**** the sun
**** the clover
**** the grass
**** the blue skies
**** the fluffy clouds
**** the trees
**** my shadow
**** this pen
**** the prairie grasses
**** the oxygen
**** the fungus eating that tree
**** the singing birds
**** the humid air
**** the peaceful afternoon
**** that ever present drone
**** the space between two objects
**** the white butterfly flying randomly
**** the birds mating
**** my finger prints
**** my fingernails
**** consciousness behind my eyelids
**** the wine in my eyes
**** bees
**** ants
**** flowers
**** the humid afternoon breeze
**** the sign that says private property keep out
**** the mating calls
**** the chirping birds
**** good health
**** bad breath
**** instant gratification
**** ****
**** black/white spotted cats
**** the tree shadows
**** the swaying grasses
**** the yellow garden hose
**** the chaquita banana box
**** getting lucky
**** guys walking their bulldogs
**** the thin grasses
**** the sun on my back and neck
**** the indoors
**** the outdoors
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
ach, leave the city to grown-ups
give me the fields that rush up and fly
into the scuffs and ****** noses
of piley-on and bulldogs
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
I like to drink, oh yeah
I drink a beer at a funeral and remember the dead
And all the things that they liked to talk about at the pub
Like there is nothing more to life than drinking a whole case of VB
I drink a beer at a wedding of my best mate
Saying that I remember when you were knee high to a grasshopper
And you tried to give me advice about the dangers of binge drinking
Yeah, I told ya, but I still drink it, and so did you, mind you
I drink a beer at work, when the boss ain't watching
Yes, that was very fun, yes, it was, we never got caught
I drink a beer for Australia winning in the cricket
And, boy did I get ****** that night
I drink a beer at the tennis this year,
And I made a toast to Djokovic, when he won the Aussie open
3 years in a row
I drink a beer for the Sydney Swans, and to Malceski for winning
Them the 2012 grand final
I drank a beer for the bulldogs in the rugby league
But the storm ****** beat us, oh no, I can't understand
Maybe it was the referee
I drink a beer to The Australian labor party
Yeah let's keep Tony Abbott out, yes that will be cool, go Julia
I drink a beer for my best mate, who was robbed last night
And I drink a beer, to remind myself that it was me
That warned him, not to hang with losers like him
I drink a beer to the weather for being nice to me
So I can go out and drink a beer to everyone in the world
And most of all I will drink a beer only when the weather is dry
First sight of rain, I go home and next time it's dry, mate
I will drink another beer, to the good and bad things in my life
Yes, I love to drink, oh yeah
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
To my beloved family,
mourning alone
without a sanctuary to
gather,
And to
the 49 bodies my
eyes know only as
that:
My body calls you
my own
and feels your absence
achingly.
He crawled into our homes
as children.
He took his position,
aimed, and unloaded
from the disappointed eyes
of our fathers.
He shot his rounds
of shame in the words of
our mothers.
But he did not leave us there.
He found us again
in the pews.
We threw our bodies
face down
under the altar,
eyes closed and bodies heaving.
He held us in his sight
through the prayers of our pastors
that erased you and I.
He called for support
from the holy assembly,
teaching them to gag
again
and again
and again
and again
and called us Abomination.
But he did not leave us there.
He placed the target on
our chests
when we sat quietly in class.
We sat there drawing pictures from
our dreams;
pictures of dancing bears and
rainbows and flowers
and tall queens.
His war cry, ******
echoed in the halls as
we counted each step towards the
shelter of home.
But he did not leave us there.
So you and I,
we found each other.
We held each other close and
wiped the tears away with
the gauze we knew to
carry
close at hand.
We built our own
sanctuary
And sent out a search party
to invite our God.
I remember our surprise
when we found that she was
already there,
laughing and dancing as our priests
conducted their holy music.
We invited the tall queens and dancing bears
that we thought only existed in
our minds;
bulldogs in tuxedos and foxes and a
princess. And we all
laughed and cried
and danced and
kissed
Because we were safe.
And our walls and hymns and
sacred prayers
kept him from finding us.
But he did not leave us there.
He found us again.
They call him Omar, son of ISIS.
We call him natural fate,
familiar face,
child and messenger
of every word and deed and stare and sermon
we have ever run from.
In the midst of celebrating our life
you ran,
trampling over those you loved as he
hunted us like dumb animals.
You ran for the exits as our family was
mown down,
member by member.
Each scream systematically and
irreversibly
silenced.
In your final moment you
let out a desperate cry,
fingers still on a keyboard;
your words forever unfinished,
forever unsent
to the mothers who
still loved us.
I heard your cry that night.
I heard it as I left
another sanctuary.
I clasped my heaving chest
trying to hold it together.
I ran my hands along my body,
pushing fingers into bullet holes
that I felt
from miles away.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 1:37 PM UTC
I want to have a drink with the bulldogs because of their great premiership win
You see they never gave in against the swans and I guarantee that at the party they will get rolling drunk
And say to Sydney go and suckeggs
I know I go for Sydney but the bulldogs deserved that win oh yeah
I will love to have a drink the bulldogs because they deserved their win
I will love to have a drink with Vance joy as he opens up the party with some very good singing and everyone in the crowd are partying with him
All over the flaming MCG
You see the bulldogs are the champions of the year 2016
Now let's see how good they can defend their mighty premiership in the next year
I would live for a drink with the bulldogs and party with them oh yeah and I wanna say to them bulldogs fight and bulldogs roar let's do our very best to party all night on October 1 with the team of the mighty west
You see my late father really loved to see the underdogs win
And at the end of the night he would love to have a methane smoothie with them after the Saturday party is over
You see I would love to have a beer with the bulldogs
Because they are the underdogs
You see let's congratulate the team from the bulldog breed
The team from the mighty west
Get drunk buddy
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC
Are you a football fan?
Are you into BIG TIME college football, where my
home town, Georgia Bulldogs are defending, two-time
national champions? Their season began last week
or maybe you’re an NFL fan (they start playing this week).
Ivy league college football starts next week and if you're
not excited about it, maybe you don’t understand it.
Before games there are parties with pizza and chicken wings.
Do NOT go to a frat house on a game day - just don’t.
If you’re going to throw a college football game
you’ll need two teams of players in safety uniforms
and at least one football (that’s what they fight over).
You need a crowd - two crowds really - and a stadium
where everyone could, in theory, sit. There should be
flags, banners, hats and jerseys in riotous team colors.
You’ll need two marching bands and school mascots.
A bulldog will do (Yale), or if you can’t afford that, you could
dress someone up as a huge-headed pilgrim (Harvard).
Of course, as with any big sporting event you’ll need skimpily
dressed girls to toss in the air and assorted food and drink to sell.
There will be lots and lots of cars, and police and ambulances
standing by in case it’s all too much or someone gets hurt.
Cheerleaders are there to whip the crowd into a vocal frenzy,
soon everyone’s yelling things like “DE-fense,” “push em back,”
“Harvard ***** and “No, really, Harvard *****
The ideal game should include a bitter rivalry like Yale vs Harvard.
While everyone knows Yale is better academically, there’s a small
chance that Harvard could win the game - which makes it scary.
We won last year and we’ll play them again this year, in November.
Anyway, whatever flavor of football you like:
It’s football season people!
Sep 8, 2023
Sep 8, 2023 at 3:00 PM UTC
Rabbits on the moon
So much of the universe I didn’t know,
Like the Antarctic dolphins that live in the snow.
Or the ostrich of Scotland that wears a pink kilt,
And the Icelandic sunflowers that never shall wilt.
There’s kittens than swim in the cold baltic sea,
Or the cobras of Poland with raspberry ***
There are turtles with shells made of musical twine,
And bulldogs in France that crush grapes into wine.
The are sloths up In Finland that wear woolly hats,
Made from the hair of some ginger Swiss cats.
There are budgies that swim in the seas deepest cracks,
And hamsters in Egypt with humps on their backs.
But nothing compares to my favourite ****** toon,
Did you know there are wild rabbits that live on the moon?
They are scary and angry and take people from tours.
They pull at their legs, just like I’m pulling yours.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
Hi dudes
This is Johnny here and I am about to
Start the first Wednesday night live
How about the AFL with Carlton who at the
Start of the year Carlton were testing the AFL ladder being on top with Sydney and seeing swans are still on top Carlton went to 8th spot and they must win to make it in the finals, they had injuries but still they could’ve tried a bit harder because now it looks like a port-Sydney grand final or an all Sydney grand final or could be port - giants or port - Geelong but I will be going for Geelong to drop out and let Brisbane in
Because the cats aren’t really that impressive but what about footscray they won in 2016 from outside the 4, is it possible for them to do that again but I am hoping Sydney can reverse that result, Collingwood need a 200 game to make finals and need Carlton and hawthorn to lose
Their games even though I personally think Carlton and hawthorn will just make up the numbers, but it does look like 2016, I really hope not now my tips Melbourne over Collingwood
Cats over eagles only because of eagles position
Suns v tigers I would like to see sims win in a nothing match north v hawks, I say hawks To make up the numbers lions to beat the bombers at the Gabba and I say Sydney can beat Adelaide position and real, I say it will be close between giants and footscray, Osage giants in a close one Carlton and st kilda both teams are coming off a win and saints won against Geelong
But I will say Carlton in a close one and port to beat dockers because dockets have more to lose but the loss of that player who attacked the crows player I say port still in a close one and now the NRL with wests and sea eagles I say eagles and warriors and bulldogs well bulldogs will be to hungry so I say the dogs and a close one but hopefully parramatta to beat Brisbane
Panthers to beat raiders but raiders will be hungry but I can’t go past panthers and I want dolphins to beat storm but not going to happen so I go for storm souths and knights both sides are a problem, I say bunnies at home I hope titans to beat roosters but again never going to happen and I will go for sharks to beat dragons but it could be close, and now the voice, I liked a few singers tonight and wasn’t it amazing Matt Rogers brother auditioned but didn’t get in, all judges are determined to get the artist they want
And now here is a song to celebrate the swans being there, it will be hard for them to win but they will try, here is show en Sydney
We read about tigers the bulldogs and the blues we read about the bombers saints and kangaroos
But in this competition the top spot has the best
Melbourne you have seen nothing now Sydney has the best
Show en Sydney show em your the swans
Show em your the winners kicking *** today
Ok goodbye from Wednesday night live
Bye
Aug 21, 2024
Aug 21, 2024 at 7:52 AM UTC
Back at the back of the running dog pack and
there's no looking back in the pack.
I growl my resistance to change and
put distance between us.
We eat on the go because nothing can slow us from reaching the destination we chose, but not one dog of us knows where that destination might be.
I am back, but I may as well pack up my bags
and go back to wherever
it was that I came from.
When no one knows where we are going and the road is so long how can it be wrong to make right and turn risk into a brisk walk away.
Back to the pack through the cranks and the ranks of the bulldogs, into the wheels and the cogs of machine driven scenery,
how green are we
that we couldn't see the wood for the barking?
How could we not know that mad dogs only go to the pound?
I stick around for a while, but my heart isn't in it
If there's a collar
I wear it?
but swear it's
for the lady
to choose.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
It's never clear to me where the dreams begin and where the memories begin but I know they both begin to make sense after the first dozen times and then once they make sense they cease to be interesting and begin to bore me and so I focus on waking up to both and setting both feet on the cold stone floor where the **** and the puke has already dripped through the cracks left by the dance and have left a dry yellow stain just so I know for sure I'm home and not still in the in between domain. And I try to recall the detail but fail again, so I start a new story where I'm the hero and not a victim this time and where there's no need for heroes cos everyone is in a cooperative mood which makes me mad - what's the point of a hero when there's no heroism called for - which makes me wonder who called me here at this time of the night when crows and bulldogs are the only ones awake and the only creatures who care about the size of the moon, oh and me of course, so what's that make me, some cross between a black arts symbol and a patriot looking for a fight to justify the distrust and anger I feel about the world - blast and ****** I need a *** and I need to puke so I lay back down, curl into my fetal and let nature do it's worse. The warmth sooths me for a while, but soon enough the chill takes hold and I wonder when mum will come and tell me it's time for school.
The answer is exactly 30 seconds later - and as usual she notices nothing, so imagination it is then - not such a blessing despite what the poet said.
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 1:59 PM UTC
It's never clear to me where the dreams begin and
where the memories begin
but I know they both begin
to make sense after the first dozen times and
then once they make sense they cease to be interesting and
begin to bore me and
so I focus on waking up to both and
setting both feet on the cold stone floor where the **** and
the puke has already dripped through the cracks left
by the dance leaving a dry yellow stain just so
I know for sure I'm home and
not still in the in-between domain. And
I try to recall the detail but fail again,
so I start a new story where I'm the hero and
not a victim this time and
where there's no need for heroes cos everyone is in
a cooperative mood which makes me mad
- what's the point of a hero when
there's no heroism called for
- which makes me wonder who
called me here at this time of the night
when crows and bulldogs are the only ones awake and
are the only creatures who care about the size of the moon, oh and
me of course, so what's
that make me? some cross between a black arts symbol and
a patriot looking for a fight to justify the distrust and
anger I feel about the world
- blast and ****** I need a *** and
I need to puke so I lay back down, curl into my fetal and
let nature do it's worse. The warmth soothes me at first, but
soon enough the chill takes hold and
I wonder when mum will come and
tell me it's time for school.
The answer is exactly 30 seconds later and
as usual she notices nothing,
so imagination it is then
- not such a blessing then,
despite what the teacher said.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 3:47 PM UTC