Killing TimeMature

Sharp as awhistle yessir indeed. Twelve-fourty-five (12:45) & easy, monday rolls around again in the descending weeks of my Sentimental education.

 The days were long n the nights were longer. The grass was greener the smoke was sweeter, but no. Perhaps i'm just Dehydrated. Yes that happens, the self fooling mechanism of the brain. The sweltering unseasonal warmth comes and there  I am plunging into an Iced cold bath drinking pints of wonderful Oxygen rich cold water, then you find your drinking Coffee, Iced but no water. 

Didn't eat breakfast thats always a groin grabber.

Ten-past-one (1:10) & avoiding familiar faces, at least for the extended glance. Suddenly a goonish chap Named Rhaoul accosts you in an awkward fashion.

No, I thought I didn't want to speak aloud. I need to stay in perspective. I seem to have lost my composure!

I offer the boy a nod.

He begins lamenting his part-time job filling sandwitchs & I realize i'm in for a lot of white noise.

It became somwhat relaxing I suppose, the weather was overcast but light shone in the disatance. It reassured me.

Rhaoul was gone he was just a rat from the sewer of my memory. 

I'd have to find that composure if  I were in good company right now. You know, like pretend to be skipping ontop of the world. The fuckin world of course! Procrastination, thats the grip here now. That & depleted nerve endings and charred lungs hairs.

I checked the Clock remembering. I came here to kil time.  

The End

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