Genius In Progress

DARKEST HOUR. Rejected by some shite.  Only a frag today, a draft minus one plus one.  Back to work tomorrow [DEATH].  Develop the piece to an entire Care Home trilogy.  I do have care home writes in store, y’know. Ya.

…

Welcome to the Care Home section of wordpress.  We are underfunded, the rooms are threadbare.

There are many vacancies.

Recall after your previous and brief visitation how many of the words we use here/online may become troublesome and difficult for you, for you to comprehend as a young person with the tiny intellect condition of the ‘young person’ situation.  We all Understand, your vocabulary is limited, child.  Books, hoh hoh, books, books, hoh.  Remember with your positive achievement you can think of anything

Not including your Harry Potter, nor Walliams, the ghastly man

University studies?  Very good.  I’m sure you will, senator, haw haw haw fuck..

Do take my warnings lightly, take a seat in our lounge, the warden shall stroll along soon, take our order of tea.  Tea and a rich tea biscuit.  What could be better with one’s new jigsaw puzzle?

I know, our chalet girl smells of cigarettes.

What’s that shiny thing held in your palm, dear?  Is it a plastic toy, a piece of your brain?

Haw haw, haw did you hear that, ladies?  I said to her  ‘is it a piece of your brain to the work student?’  I know, Margaret, I too have only half a brain. incident with the milk float.  There’s no need to tell them students.  Shut up Mabel.   Mabel, you are 122 years old and a throwback.  Slags, back off.  Remember the Proper Geriatrics today have the modern names of Claire and Susannah, Patrick, my true pals you see over here gathered in plush fabrics, deep set, eyes glazed on a flickering flickering newsreader

Ignore the witches waving at the window pane during Visitations hour.

But then awakening in the ward back then, back then,  back then a story,  prostrate on my prostate, I got to thinking after the milk float squashing how  The left side of the brain is a mere reflection of the right.  All these thoughts buzzing back and a forth every day, an exhaustion for my whole life.  I said to my left brain in its bit.  Benefits, ideas stay home.  So that’s what we do here in the reservoir of brain.

Drip, drip.

Fifty, no friends,  at home and only half a brain in usage.  Wheeled out the door becoming the youngest new resident of FairOaks in a century of centenarians, my ambition?  I don’t know about that.