When you wake up and you forget the day you've had,
When your mum forgets to call and you're feeling kinda sad
And when your kitchen's in bits so you spend your b'day
Flitting in-between states of mind, your love affair at play -
You and B&Q.
Things ain't going your way.
But you press on with it
- You've got a house to save
From crumbling walls and stiffeners
With which you can crack a smile
But your mouth can't dilate -
Daddy's nearby and you can't understand such things.
It doesn't matter that you're 17
The world fucks up around you
As a grown up child, going mad, going wild,
You're on trial,
With your creator haggling you
Your close-knit, half retreated community crossexaming you,
Your friends and family peering down at you;
Forget the bitty kitchen,
Forget B&Q - there's no time for stop cocks
And gold watches,
Don't bother with phone calls and the infinite layers of communication
Why trifle with birthdays -
You're getting older.
What the fuck is going to happen with your life?
For someone will cross continents to defy you,
Someone will walk around broken glass to reach you
And someone may jump mountains to slap you
And manufacture walls and cages for you to walk into.
Someone may love you.
Who are they?
Your eyes may get wet,
Your mind may go round the bend with worry
But stop right there, and fuck up your life
For you are never who you are right now
Forever.
Some people may be aware (and some even less aware) that I had a birthday yesterday - my 17th, in fact. Anyway, I've just failed my Classics exam and I have even littler time to prepare for my Politics exam, since the kitchen is still in bits...(pipe busted, but its fixed now) but I did get to watch some women's football. I think its a lesbian thing. Anyway, I wrote a poem about it. I realise now, that when you're 17, you don't really mess up that badly: the world messes up around you and you blindly join in.
About Me
- Serialangel
- London/Manchester, England, United Kingdom
- I AM 18 I am black, atheist, depressed and erm, lesbianic with an inherent fear of boredom. I can do anything, right? I know that I'm smart, funny, "pretty", a calming influence. Yet I'm full of so many fuck-ups its hard to believe that sometimes. I'm a true bibliophile, :) My feelings on the future changes every day - fear, w00tness, confusion, blank Sometimes I'm in recovery, sometimes I'm actively trying to destroy myself and no one can stop me... My life is just one long story, like everyone else's. I live with my Dad and my brother, but I'm rainy strange old Manchester where, just maybe, my real life will begin. Oh, and I'm gifted. Apparently. I don't know. That doesn't sit well with me. Read this blog and find out why.
1 comment:
Hey. Happy birthday.
When you say woman's football, it's soccer, right? If so, I don't think it's just a lesbian thing - I totally loved Bend It Like Beckham and found myself wanting to watch football all the time. Except our football here is stupid and boring and manly. Not a lot of soccer.
Anyway, I hope you're doing well. God. 17. That was a fun age (not really). And it has just dawned on me that I'm 21 years older than you. Well, now I feel old. Oh, well. I did before I read your post.
Thank you for the update, I was getting worried since you hadn't posted anything new. Don't worry me. Odd maternal-like feelings start surfacing. It is weird.
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