NH
Are you saying we should all stay in the ward for fear of catching the superbug?
Nick Harvey
Founding member
GJ05 posted:
MSTA Online and The TV Room+
Are you saying we should all stay in the ward for fear of catching the superbug?
CT
Well when someone tells someone else to
DIE
it usualy means that the person is to stop living. you got that Geena
GJ05 posted:
when it has got the word
DIE
in, you can never know!!
RO
GJ stands for Great Jobbies and 05 is like 2005, and that means your name is like Great Jobbies 2005, and that makes me laugh. Ha.
That's me laughing, illustrating how I'm capturing hilarity from this situation.
Ha.
There I go again - hollow laughs into an empty chamber.
Ha.
They cut through any person's heart, but all they do is turn. Briefly. And return. No consequence on their part. No guilt. They've done all they need to do. But I'm lying there in a darkened room, props of destruction sliding down, puddle of red seeping into every crevice, obvious setup - no questions - none asked. No-one will find me as she removes the body, storing in a dusty pit - what I deserve?
Every chance to laugh must be taken, cheap or otherwise. I laugh at you, because you are a pitiful excuse of an individual, and despite the occasional moments of reflection and wonder, I safely assure myself my superiority is well-placed. In the dark, windy hours I sit, gently rocking, warm beverage, lights blasting from a box but reaching no eyes. The eyes that stare dead ahead. Ocassional swings from side to side, angles only adjusted by breezes around the structure. Hours of gentle swinging with nothing but a ghostly momentum. It'll be hours before they discover it, long blocks of white followed by a thick black. Chin and arms. Pooling.
Reactions are difficult to determine. Ironically, we often wonder what that first moment will be - before and after, that is. Strolling in, casually talking to each other. Open the door. Life.
Stops.
Here.
Freeze-frame on the forever spinning casket of ceased life. Someone has to blame. No-one took him but so many did. They can brandish words, but the casket will swing. It will swing until there is peace.
Years on, and it may have been removed, but it continues to swing in their minds.
They refuse to let it rest.
I swing through the night. Gently. Breezes lift me momentarily. Breezes drop me. There is no peace yet, and there will never be.
And so I swing - ghostly forces keep me going.
That's me laughing, illustrating how I'm capturing hilarity from this situation.
Ha.
There I go again - hollow laughs into an empty chamber.
Ha.
They cut through any person's heart, but all they do is turn. Briefly. And return. No consequence on their part. No guilt. They've done all they need to do. But I'm lying there in a darkened room, props of destruction sliding down, puddle of red seeping into every crevice, obvious setup - no questions - none asked. No-one will find me as she removes the body, storing in a dusty pit - what I deserve?
Every chance to laugh must be taken, cheap or otherwise. I laugh at you, because you are a pitiful excuse of an individual, and despite the occasional moments of reflection and wonder, I safely assure myself my superiority is well-placed. In the dark, windy hours I sit, gently rocking, warm beverage, lights blasting from a box but reaching no eyes. The eyes that stare dead ahead. Ocassional swings from side to side, angles only adjusted by breezes around the structure. Hours of gentle swinging with nothing but a ghostly momentum. It'll be hours before they discover it, long blocks of white followed by a thick black. Chin and arms. Pooling.
Reactions are difficult to determine. Ironically, we often wonder what that first moment will be - before and after, that is. Strolling in, casually talking to each other. Open the door. Life.
Stops.
Here.
Freeze-frame on the forever spinning casket of ceased life. Someone has to blame. No-one took him but so many did. They can brandish words, but the casket will swing. It will swing until there is peace.
Years on, and it may have been removed, but it continues to swing in their minds.
They refuse to let it rest.
I swing through the night. Gently. Breezes lift me momentarily. Breezes drop me. There is no peace yet, and there will never be.
And so I swing - ghostly forces keep me going.