A dying death this court doust suffer.

The uncompleted Bearded Man

So as of late I feel extremely wound up. That probably explains me wanting to scold my lecturer. And killing people.

Its like a battery bar. every friday and saturday, i get to recharge. Sunday I start work, thurs I try to finish all. but this week. Oooh. this week was overkill. Anyway, how I lament.

Aside from that, I'm starting to associate my laptop with work.And I'm starting to talk in a rather obnoxious way ever since my episode where my head said hi to the pavement. Crikey.

I dont really feel like rambling, so I'll write a poem.


When the world stands still, like a revolving staged stopped short,
All we have to guide us, is our script and our hearts,
Yet when we were birthed into this industralised world,
our hearts were the only gift, like a oyster and it's pearl

So where, do you ask is this script that we seek
To guide and guard us, and close to us keep,
The answer I cannot be certain,
Because I know not, I do not lie,
But when you make a choice,
Be certain, and perhaps in it the script doust lies.