Tuesday, October 28, 2008//6:50 PM

#200

This #200th post begins on a stormy day with a solemn note. A note so solemn that children everywhere cower in fear. Beware the death that lies ahead my reader dear. Just hang on tight and hold onto your rear!
The battery pack of fujitsu will be sorely missed. RIP Mr Battery, 2007-2008.
Moving on from a death comes an injury in the toilet (I sound like Lemony Snicket. Ah gloomy gloomy). Skippylass vooman! Next time dance more in the loo! And sing from your hoo hoo! Get better soon!
The post then hops on to horrid frustration. A sign must be put up to remind the dementia-prone author many many things. Things that may very well save her from a heart attack. Or break. Either way it'll prevent an early fate similar to the battery pack. Be true to oneself, and leave the rest to God.


This #200th post is drowning in gloom and despair,
and slowly you'll find you're yanking your hair.
Better posts may come, soon in the future,
but for now ma cherie, gloom's in your picture.

Creep down the hallway, turn around slowly
Slide along the wall, it feels really grimy.
Something cold and slimy touches your neck
And soon hairs stand; all over your back

Mouth shaped like an O, get ready to scream
A hand grabs you from behind; oh typical dream
Its normal to flee, but then you stop short
"Was reality better" comes the great retort?

You float through the walls into a new world
Where everything's wonky, crispy and curled
No reflection in the mirror, no footsteps left behind
Just waltzing and twirling, till you unwind.