I wish I was small. Smaller, but my arms were the same length. I’d still be able to give you a hug. Your arms would stay the same? No! Then I’d just be a sausage roll with finger nails. The human tea-bag. That sausage. Semi-permeable membrane.

I wish I was in a stage of my life where I could be with someone. I just feel I’m often not happy in myself. -you do ask a lot.

And everyone else? The other three. Not replying, the effort that I put in, the effort you put in. Watching all that Naruto. Television, books, anything you do, you choose to do. It becomes you. But only for a time. Then is passes into deficiency.

Dad had a Guinness, not offering me any.  Wonder what he wished. I wonder if it had to do with Mum.

Wendy brought up wishes being secret, I spoke of being shameless. I wonder if she thought of her late husband. 

You’re so confused. How could you operate a locked door? xo

Young and old. Jaded. Demanding, petty and disgusting. Invalid selfish challenged individuals. Lost in their own worlds. Cry and cry and tired eyes hypnotist along the course to your chosen death. You always have that. I wish they were alive, or I was doing something else. How unimaginative could you get. So elsewhere. So rash. Sick and cracked. Crisp nothingness, coldness within a darkness and depressing. Choosing to end it all, or chance your luck with the magic of the moment. Shar your wrists or slit them. Dark or light. Red is red. Black is before and after its own description. Which precedes? Canon of thought- mites and goggles. Our specks feels the light of larger things. Vibrating mass of colour sounds and form. One form, choice discussion and a sickness of slamming doors the threshold covered. Answer me thing. Answe this. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. 

Happy Birthday. Peck