*Lady Macbeth*
03-21-2006, 08:39 AM
I am situated behind my desk in the corner of the room.
The dog has settled to being my footstool, under prerequisite
That I wriggle my toes against his smooth, dark fur periodically.
Geli, Renate and Eva Braun all committed suicide because of Hitler,
He must have either had very bad breath, or a very small penis.
Britler gave me an A* in our last essay [I did it at 3am that morning].
But she scrawled 'EVIDENCE?' right across my previous assessment,
And penned a jagged green 'C' over my three and a half sides.
The purple blazer comforts the green rolling-chair I'm resting on.
My brand new phone lies unceremoniously in the right pocket;
Grandma's rosary beads have been tangled in the left for weeks.
I open the first drawer of the table to retrieve the second edition of
'GCSE- Modern World History'. I find it under Du Maurier's novel,
And later learn that I am drawn to the secret of 'Rebecca' and her life.
An impatient twitch from the dog prompts me to study my notes-
Chucking Rebecca carefully onto my bed; I open the middle drawer.
The blue cover of my journal shouts reminiscently from the bottom;
The dog rolls contentedly onto his back, lazily revealing his abdomen.
The gleaming guilt of the last drawer glares at me enticingly.
I elevate the bible and dictionary, searching too fervently for the
Prize underneath. I am rewarded for my enthusiasm by
The red and white grin of the perfectly packed Marlboro's.
I glance at the one in my hand; it's as perfectly straight as
The baby carrots Nicole and I used to pretend to smoke.
The aroma slaps me, and the dog stands up and barks.
I run with him to the garden with the pack and my rabbit lighter.
After all, the policy of Appeasement was wasted on Hitler.
Dad's flowers hush and whisper mockingly as I light up.
Both the dog and I wince as the fumes sting my eyes;
When I finally open them, both him and the fag are gone,
And my hands smell so strong.
The dog has settled to being my footstool, under prerequisite
That I wriggle my toes against his smooth, dark fur periodically.
Geli, Renate and Eva Braun all committed suicide because of Hitler,
He must have either had very bad breath, or a very small penis.
Britler gave me an A* in our last essay [I did it at 3am that morning].
But she scrawled 'EVIDENCE?' right across my previous assessment,
And penned a jagged green 'C' over my three and a half sides.
The purple blazer comforts the green rolling-chair I'm resting on.
My brand new phone lies unceremoniously in the right pocket;
Grandma's rosary beads have been tangled in the left for weeks.
I open the first drawer of the table to retrieve the second edition of
'GCSE- Modern World History'. I find it under Du Maurier's novel,
And later learn that I am drawn to the secret of 'Rebecca' and her life.
An impatient twitch from the dog prompts me to study my notes-
Chucking Rebecca carefully onto my bed; I open the middle drawer.
The blue cover of my journal shouts reminiscently from the bottom;
The dog rolls contentedly onto his back, lazily revealing his abdomen.
The gleaming guilt of the last drawer glares at me enticingly.
I elevate the bible and dictionary, searching too fervently for the
Prize underneath. I am rewarded for my enthusiasm by
The red and white grin of the perfectly packed Marlboro's.
I glance at the one in my hand; it's as perfectly straight as
The baby carrots Nicole and I used to pretend to smoke.
The aroma slaps me, and the dog stands up and barks.
I run with him to the garden with the pack and my rabbit lighter.
After all, the policy of Appeasement was wasted on Hitler.
Dad's flowers hush and whisper mockingly as I light up.
Both the dog and I wince as the fumes sting my eyes;
When I finally open them, both him and the fag are gone,
And my hands smell so strong.