Something old to start anew!

My first blog 'Life and That' came into decline after I forgot the email address, username, password I used... not a good start. HOWEVER, this is the fantastically new blog which I will be posting my 'poetry', and will also serve as a mini-live-journal.

SO, to welcome in this new blog I thought I would post something which I didn't put on the other blog, it's an old piece but new for you. It's particularly poignant for me, as when I look back at some old work I can see how I've changed, and it serves as a reminder that things aren't always as bad as they were or seem. Time does that.

Again, it's free prose as is generally my style. A commemorative piece for the National Express service from Gloucester, which I took around last spring.

Service 444

Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome to this coach service of 444 to London, Victoria.

It is now a legal requirement to wear your seatbelt. Failure to do so, may result in a penalty.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy this journey.

This journey is a time of reflection, and I have done it many times.

The joys of Gloucester are something you must experience for yourself. Nearly all inhabitants of the coach station are fucking insane.

There’s a girl with blood down the side of her leg, with grey khakis rolled up with mud, sweat, puke.

A smoke puffing woman, sits babbling to everyone and no one. She taps her cigarette with impatience.

Spotty, addidas capped oik stares. Waiting for your glance. Better not.

Dreary.

Why is there is no passionate goodbye, when I get on the number 32 from ‘R’ to ‘G’?

I can feel the cum slide out, into my pants. This is going to be an uncomfortable three hours.

Three hours of the rolling and lurching, the ideas in my head.

Five days together. I think that’s a new record. 

This might, very possibly, be the last time I see you. I often think this on the return 444, Glos. to Lon. Vic..

Five days of shagging, eating, talking and some laughter.

So, why so worried about it all?

Perhaps the folder marked ‘Do not look at this one’, might have something to do with it.

But no, that was just an additional maggot to worm through my brain.    

That maggot was my own fault, and I have no one to blame but myself for it. But, who can’t look at a folder named ‘Do not look at this one’? Curiosity killed the cat indeed.

I quickly closed it.

But this didn’t stop my heart from racing, maggot to start squirming, stomach to start rolling.

Why was I even looking in the first place?! I was curious. And I wanted to find the videos that I sent you. To see if you still watched them.

Seriously. Why name it that?! Perhaps it was a test. I failed. But then, obviously you don’t know me that well to know that something named like that would plague me.

I've seen this kind of thing before. 

Perhaps I’m thinking about it too much.

I am, after all, a compulsive thinker.

And I do, after all, think about you and me too much.

This is stupidity at it's most stupid.