Because the cold has frozen them off. Student accommodation might have it's perks but the radiators don't work. Last night is half blacked out, half amazingly cool. My fish tank needs a clean. On the desk is a pile of plasters, drugs and Marlboro Red packets. The washing hasn't finished yet. My flip flops say 'I heart London'. Beside the laptop is a notepad with the words 'So shoot me' at the top of the page and a mind blank underneath it. The colours ran and stained my Sex Pistols t-shirt a weird greeny blue. My MSN is flashing. Every time I think my brain shuts down a little bit more. There's so much to look forward to and such a massive gap between things as they are now and how I would like them to be. It takes hard work.
Red is polysemic for water, bed, smokes, hair, buses, Shaun of the Dead, Paris, love, hate, irony, scars, gel pens that smell of cinnamon, Youtube, Alkaline Trio, error messages, the beads the Jimmy wore a lot, lipstick kisses, being woken up by the sunshine, self destruction
and everything inside my head that doesn't make sense and doesn't express itself properly.
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