Just Stuie it.

cancel that, got shit to do

i don’t give a shit, i’m getting fucked up

tumblr you old faithful mistress, how i have forgotten….

shit week

The rattling screw of a window left ajar

falls with twice a twink to the paved floor,

its bore a recess of innocence;

The boy, old enough to tell, slips a leg from out under him

as his eyes glare alert with dare.

The flyscreen up, the window tight

and a with gust he leaves, the sound gone

and so too the purity of night.

-stuie

Hello,

How about that ride in? I guess that’s why they call it Sin City (hahaha)

You guys may not know this, but I consider myself…a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one man wolf pack. But when my sister brought Doug home, I knew he was one of my own. And my wolf pack, it grew by one. So were two…so there was two of us in the pack. I…I was alone first in the pack, and then Doug joined in later.

And 6 months ago, when Doug introduced me to you guys. I thought…wait a second, could it be? And now I know for sure, I just added 2 more guys to my wolf pack. 4 of us wolves running around the desert together, in Las Vegas looking for strippers and cocaine.

a funny little thing thats nice to read quickly

My eyes droop and my tum swells

as the bells and whistles of a danoz tells;

but here i am, and i dont like jam,

who gives a shit about spells?

It twirls and swirls as the buckle of pirate bursts

with a “yell!” and a “hell” and a naughty nurse

i spread my arms out wide;

but alas i find my drink is nine and i am all but cursed.

-stuie

ps if you can figure out the rythm your a fan of spike milligan

liquid balance

a drink, a drunk, a life high on life!

a vomit, a swirl, a heavy head filled with heavy clouds.

Again it flows, who isn’t happy?!

But alas the rains fall too.

A yang follows a ying, as a heavy head from a night out.

We regret the method but not the moment.

viva the drunken bliss and shoo the swirling mystic.

- stuie

1850’s to now

A bumbling street porter falls beneath his lamp post

as the twinkle of a carriage floast by;

the clack of the wheels and a snort of the mast

mix to a sound desired most.

A dreary London streetscape in an era all too romanticised

falls too - beneath the lampost of our modern age.

Listen carefully though, can you still hear the twinkle?

- stuie