This is a doldrum day at school, like the days that I used to have before. School, [sigh] when I hated going. School, hmph, when it was an effort. School, ugh, when there's nothing to be for. School, when I opted to stay home.
Melted chocolate in my pocket, and I'm too pussy to go into the newspaper room and see what's up. Up the halls I meander, walking aimlessly. It’s hard to write and go down a flight of stairs. You'll certainly fall.
I know the place, I know the date, and seagulls sound like a young girl screaming. Seagulls? What seagulls? 15 minutes to go now that I know the time. But I don't have the time time, too busy sucking on a ding-dong... Ding dong dell, pussy's in the well, and don't those fucking seagulls know this is a desert? Silly rabbit...
I think my ennui has disjointed and decomposed into random incoherencies. Or perhaps I'm so cool and avant-garde there is no niche, no category for me. No. I'm just crazy.
No bus and all's well... I know the sooner I leave the better I'll be. I'll graduate to complete thoughts expressed in delicately crafted sentences written in a more traditional manner on proper paper.
Through and thru they wander, sauntering blindly by.
Blindly by what?
Life, I tell myself indignantly, for I should already know that.
The sun's getting brighter, and her skirt's so short... I love her flawless thighs. A pick from the doldrums of the day. It is expected, but who knows when it shall pass.
Burning, burning sun. Blasted vernal equinox. Pretty skin.
I think, when I was a youth, a young teenager, it was not like this. But it was. Oh, it was. Doldrums of a featureless school; ignorances abundant; smells are so unfamiliar. It is all the same. Appearances deceive. That's nothin' new. Neither are missing 'g's. Blast.
Burning, burning, it stares at me. Only me, because only I know it's staring. It hurts me as it sees me traipse along.
Mommy, mommy dearest. Relationships are formed so early.
WHAT THE HELL AM I SAYING?! Clangky-scrawl.
It's yet to come and it does this. It does it every time. People appear out of nothing. Suddenly I realise almost everyone's less than I.
Hot melted chocolate money get on the fucking bus. I don't have time for your bullshit and neither should you. I shan’t have a conversation with a mouth full of broken plastic. Brown yard in a city of grey. Greygreygrey DEAD. Broken in hand, the youth stare ahead at the amazingly expansive brownish grey dead. No one looks young anymore, do they? The sun comes and it goes, hurting my head just to think. Will anyone want the chocolate in my pocket?
Blasted chair wont stay down. Bumpbump. It makes a good resting place for my boots heavy with ennui. Je m'ennui. A walking near zombie addicted to sugar to counter the meds just to allow him to be. Pobrecito.
Lie down, pretty girl. There's a long stretch yet ahead. I just don't care anymore, I've reached the end of my tether, I've torn all the letters up.
Pretty cart, ugly people. Almost home and the paper's all but gone. Just as well, the sun is bigger than the moon and it hurts to look anymore.