WEEK @ of any sort of Writing Louis Rowe, AUTHOR of GREY-GRAVITY

THIS IS THE LINK TO MY NOVEL: GREY-GRAVITY (its easy to download and you can put it in your electronic Book, costs nothing.)

I WOULD HAVE KILLED HER, IF THE OTHERS HADN'T FIRST.

I take up the photograph, on the screen, but the picture is blank. My mind is so blank. I am only allowed to the say the unspeakable they said. Which is what everyone said, so I’ve hurt her.

Her eyes squint a little, and the blue inside them, is like raindrops flickering over the screen where the pixels are mixing tears. I press X.

--

Now the postal system brings grand treasures. Not stuff I steal, the best stuff, the stuff I pay the money for, it’s so rare like Jade stone.

When I was little my Nan sat me on her lap, and we played with little stones on the table. They were all jade stones of different colours, you can get red and white and black too, not just green. I pointed a finger at a black one, I liked it very much.

When I got older I found out the jade stones were women, and I was marvelled at the signs. I got red, so red, I grew my hair long and they braided me, with beads made of jade, some really big and heavy.

            You’ve put up with everything, some how you are still pure, you are, I am not. I hung dozily without speaking, and shut the box, and went off to find a distraction, the useless me in hiding, from voices, useless me losing with horrors.

=

Those vegan bastards that never smoke, they arrive at my house, they don’t want to die, too quickly, too painfully, because they have got a lot of hate to give, and only others should experience pain. Hee, they go after two hippies, only pain, to smoke in the good pain, regret, death of love; all sorts, inviting too. Nazis were vegans! I’m not being weird; they had “animal rights”…lots of men, kryptonite Tibetan monks in berlin at the fall. Some idea of taking love, and hitting in pain, with superpowers.

==

Deeply Dead. Accepting this time in case of hint of madness, fuck you, now I can say it, older, …”disgusting little thing.”

==

I didn’t accept the first kiss. They said, punch it, punch it. Somehow the bridal suite is a public domain. Why this shite? That is the way.

What is this? What is that? Where has it gone?

Waste hours of days, and then go yagggggghhhhh.

Accept mazes built for old ladies.

Think you’re free when there’s absolutely no-one around. Give up to, classless redefinition, join the lowest classes.

=

I wonder if you gave me that letter the wrong time. We mature and remember the good time, the one we abandoned we bring back to life as a souvenir clutched in warmer hands.

FGGGGRRR.

I am learning how to write, how to philosophise, but the lower classes didn’t let me do that, and the prison didn’t let me go, SOOOOO. Redefine a philosophy in cinematic pictures, don’t hone that wonder-line that will become a quote. I am just starting to think, and the ladder is wonky, little head bangs at the TV. I am learning, how to cut out of the cut free, and write something, more precious than gold. Paragraphs instead of sentences of what YOU need to know.

I shouldn’t have told you jade is better than gold. It used to be rarer therefore expensive in China.

Sheep and Goats.

My teeth are monstrous and sharp; they are made of metal now.

            It doesn’t mean I’m close to Fall, it means I’m close to killing.

I take in regards, and smile with rusting spiked teeth.

It’s difficult to understand.

It’s Frustration, its pure anger against the impure.

Its better to have anger, I’m something else now, don’t follow the crowd.

I have a ringing noise inside my grin, My lips roll back quick, the teeth say, Enter Death.

-I’m in the Suburbs, stuck on a line rolled on a map, one line from that house to the next house, only two houses, past week I talk myself, I am? I was at the theatre, but went near the wrong people, ran from them, forgave, endeared them, and now I’m close to being sectioned because they lie, and I’ve have been terrified. Its not that bad, but I’ve got school and art too. Computers don’t fit on dormitory beds; all my things would get stolen.

I HAVE TO BE ANGRY though, because they are mad rubbish, blah…

Accepted the cell, for too long, didn’t get out enough, I get to the THEATRE< and wow the Drag Queen from Hell, walks onto the stage, possessing a wise woman, k’elled her, me, the kid, and then I burp?

            It was heavy.

Bad man.

Close the Doors.  Speak to me about the way we can be. We are all being. There isn’t an exact being. There isn’t.  Alphabet, one, two, count letters caught up in the middle, the inside of words, the edges, the ends, so much more being said.

DIARY: do not reveal, gave someone, who had lost my own note of money, on iron board, I put it there, she put it there, I gave her the money.

Predictions of Sectioned trouble, just because they are nasty.

Lets not delve into this, it could make the epic novel…3 days to go, before the end of the week project.

Why I’ve gone to the city pretty girls wear black burkhas, with just their eyes showing. There is a more simple reason for this than,  Taj Hargey  SAYS (in the Daily Mail) then, because it is non-koranic theological madness, a scary piece of tribal identity. NO!

I knew a girl actually studying the Koran. She was nice and very pretty; I’ve seen pretty weird eyes behind those veils, shining bright orange eyes, at the bus stop. That do, yeah hold a little bit of fear inside, if you keep staring. Those eyes, were orange!

I’ve seen it as a meek way of hiding exceptional beauty, AS accepting a time of studying the Koran and GOD, so that, all other things, the dirty things, the stuff on the streets you have to pass through to get to school, (men that stare at eyes) to be cast off (I’m sure those words are in the English/Hebrew bible….)

. HAVING to, sort of protect the soul, by hiding the body.
Bastard.

I keep away from the news now, there’s a quick fleeting injection of lava called Hell, and it was anti-censorship, just so the Devil could get its thrill

I’m too unwell to be subjected to murder; they are poisoning your mind, right in front of you.

It makes you dejected you don’t want to do anything at all. You are hanging in time they made, on the noose they made.

                                                          

Off they go to spend the money. Break the TV.

Well.

THE END>