“Shut Up… I was just talking to myself.”
eww-grimaces, and sudden elbow-judders
… clumsy and irrational (that’s me).
“I shouldn’t have wore a fucking skirt!”
If I actually throw-up in front of him
… I’m going straight to A&E
with bleeding wrists and ankles
to be stitched-up and Sectioned (aaARGH!)
There are ‘Ants’, ohmygodohmygod
… who put them little biatches there?
And low-flying ‘Pigeons’… like REALLY?
whoever invented them should be shot
… oh no, my ring’s caught in my hair.
Is he smirking? seriously, mate, is it now
… oh, don’t you worry, boyo,
I’m logging that safely away for later on,
when I’ve finally got your cute, little ‘Heart’
safely tucked away inside my arse-pocket.
But, for now… I endure and concentrate…
‘Eyes On The Prize’, girl, you’ve got this,
think of something soothing and calming,
… in three weeks time, or thereabouts…
I’ll finally be spitting and pissing all over
that ‘Little Black Book.’ he’s so proud of.
An OCD Girl, With Tears Running Down Her Cringing Face
Stepping Upon Pavement ‘Cracks’, Just To Prove Her Love For You… Bastard!