Wait Shout from the roof tops, ive nothing to declare. The space to my side disappointing thin air, My spark empty but dont deserve a blink, Im the one who is wrong, no stretch to think The thief who raided what wanted to be stole the weight of guilt bore down on our souls Now far away, i can feel her inside Both at the mercy of mother times bide.

Anger Count to 1, can feel it bubbling behind my eyes Closed for 2, singeing my eyelids Already at 3, swallow an escaping word Silently say 4, fly far away Halfway at 5, blinkered to the world Whisper 6, heart beat starts to slow More confident at 7, fists unclenching So close at 8, still biting your tongue Open eyes with 9, focus on his face again Ready to speak at 10, "yes certainly" and your dignity smiles

Being Me All i hear is 'just be yourself' Why would i handicap myself? The person you see here is not the one that arrives at work. The person who leaves work is not the one who arrives at his friends. Drifting from scene to scene. I play every character in this show. Im the personality chameleon So when you furnish me with your advise, let it be...'just be yourselves'

Owls I think i just realised that owls are just flying cats

Fish Belly White Buttocks Sister Mary will take the girl guides on their forest walk this evening. The girls enjoy the animal spotting and its a glorious evening. They will take the path by the ponds so they can feed the ducks . Its the first time she has taken the girls out and her map tells her the shortest way is through Brinwick street. Brian enjoyed running. Its the perfect way to empty the mind of the day. So with his dinner in the oven, He steals half an hour for a run. Dressed in shorts,vest and trainers he attaches his door key to his shorts. He threads the chord through the key's hole and ties the knot. He is a big framed man and his running style is probably best described as lumbering. 25 mins into his run he checks his watch and heads for home. Arriving back at his front door he doubles over, shattered and sweaty. He pushed himself and thats good. He picks at the knot on his shorts, trying to release his key, but the knot has pulled tight and he doesn't have the fingernails to untie it. The key wont budge, it is staying on his shorts. He looks around the leafy suburban street. A street where nothing really happens. A street where men don't take their shorts off to get into their house. Especially if they aren't wearing any pants. His dinner is burning. The knot wont budge. There is only one thing to do. He could get the whole operation done in 14 seconds. No one will see. Brinwick street is fairly quiet at the time of night. He looks around. Waiting for the coast to be clear. And he goes for it. Shorts down. 4 seconds. Put key in hand. 2 seconds. Push into lock 2 seconds. Turn key... It wont turn It wont turn He tries to pull the key out...but it is jammed. A gentle breeze laps around his fish belly white buttocks. In the distance he hears footsteps. Lots of them.