It’s a bizzare circus up here in this noggin . The children of this cerebral acroplis are frozen in time . They breathe in hot crimson clouds of panic , encased and cocconed in past misery tossing and turning all night ; shiny brittle shards of trauma in their chests , cutting their insides ,poking out beneath ribs ;filling up lungs at the brink of silicosis .
The crystals of time shatter every morning like clockwork . Groggily , the children awaken and brush out the the prickly dust beneath their eyelids . On good days, washed out and fatigued the children trudge along with big bright smiles , keeping up appearances. Most days though, they collapse and curl up like centipedes . No amount of poking or prodding will awaken them .
The cinema in this city is open all night. Attendance is mandatory here ,after all sleep is for the sane and pure ; The dirty little cretins of this city deserve no such liberties. Tonight’s big show is : Age 5 featuring co-stars – SmallLimbs and Mr LargeHands .
The plot revolves around a few kodak moments , SmallLimbs learns to ride a bike , SmallLimbs gets hugs and kisses from LargeHands , Smalllimbs on a large bed , LargeHands everywhere ………. and then there’s the climax (his climax ?)
There are several sequels to this story , 7 years worth of tape . Some stained with blood , others blurred and foggy due to dissociation .
SmallLimbs wakes up every morning , wishing she didnt .
The children wake up every morning , wishing they didnt .
I wake up every morning , wishing I didn’t.
Towering over , spittle flying , huge hands wrapped, tight around sylph-like bony shoulders . Panic blooms inside skinny ribs.
” You tell someone again and I’ll end you”
“I won’t , promise “
It’s official now , my baby brother is a proper teenager . See 13 is merely the initiation into teenagehood , 14 is the time where you’ve learnt all the rules and how to get away with breaking them .
Kukukuku *evil laugh* time to introduce him to the dark side .
Here is the card I made for him .
Edit : puns run in the family . This is the card he made for my birthday a week later ( yep 7 days between our birthdays)
Experiment : Bathe the puppy
Materials required : One middle aged suburban mom , one minecraft obsessed tween , a bored teenager and an energetic puppy .
Hypothesis : Puppies are happy and energetic beings who like to roll around in water and mud .Hence ,puppies like baths .
Additional requirements : fuzzy green Aloe Vera puppy shampoo and an ancient bath tub which was used to bathe said tween and teen as infants .
Procedure :1) Make suburban mom guard bathroom door and capture any slippery puppies which try to escape
2) make tween pour a small amount of shampoo into your hands ( Note: tween may also rub his eyes and proceed to shriek for 5 mins .This may prolong the experiment )
3) soak wriggling puppy in warm water
4)puppy escapes and three people scramble after said brat
5)repeat step 1,2,3,4 with a firmer grip on your puppy
6)Make tween hold puppy as it wriggles . Apply expensive aloe vera shampoo onto ungrateful puppy (seriously though ,that shampoo is more colourful and fancier than mine )
7)Puppy escapes again
8)Approach adorable puppy covered in froth, with extreme caution .
9)Rub it’s tummy as a sign of trust and kindness
10)Proceed to betray puppy’s trust and scrub puppy with more shampoo.(kid’s gonna have trust issues in the future )
11) Capture puppy and wash away the soap suds .
12) Drape puppy in towel and blow dry fur
Precaution : Puppies can be fascinated or terrified of blow dryers. It may either wriggle away from you , scratch your arms and jump of the bed or it may try to eat the blow dryer .It might do both too .Tough luck mate
Observations : Puppy wetness is directly proportional to intensity of puppy butt wriggles .
Dog shampoo hurts human eyes too .
Puppy smells wonderful after bath .
Puppies look adorable bundled up in baby pink towels .
Let no water enter puppy’s ears
Conclusion : Puppies hate baths . Hypothesis failed .
Instead of slumber ,
she mends nouns and interjections,
weaving in conjunctions.
Phrases crochet’d at seams;
her similies aren’t what they seem.
Few moths bicker.
As the street lights flicker .
Dappled light on her notepad.
Ink smudges ‘tween her fingers. (one stray spot beside her chapped rose lips)
Lips pressed tight ,
Brow furrowed on her right .
She writes about iridescent Kites .
Flying high ,
(Way above little girls and fireflies )
Zipping past strips of cirri.
(Irked by a sun that will never rise)
Brushes and blotches
Of a hazy grey
Large looming masses
Of purple and clay
Gather at horizon.( near, but not too close )
for now the the little kite
flies happy cartwheels;
(A sun that will never rise )
Just like a little girl
who rubs her cold brittle feet.
Few moths bicker.
As the street lights flicker .