Mum is gone

What's the normal thought? When one mother dies what does one feel? Why this emptiness? Both parents are now gone they have fled this evil world. They have died. What does it feel like?

Everybody left me dry. I am completely dried out.

First, it was him.

When does someone become not rigid with fear but somehow difficult? It was not for that. If it was not for the very stuff of nightmares when he took off on his long journey to live and left me in the dryer.

I will be back he said as I did not speak a word. Because knew if I did if I had there would have been tears and he would have left anyhow.

I would have been punished sent to do more chores for less money. And he would have been triumphant with his silly new wife. He had done he thought something bad. He did not know he had been done. She had been a clever seventeen year old and healthy and from a family filthy rich so why she needed her virtue only he knew. He had done someone in got her virginity and she was barely seventeen.

Ouch my God, and he has done for himself and not even a stupid thought to his brain but honour and to make the woman not outside but in. He got serious intentions and he dumped me right away because he had just one head and that full of junk and jukebox. His life was now full to the brim as the superior ass he had become.

In John Donn's time, it began I think when he and his wife were cruelly separated by death and got addicted to the serious game hunters.

Games people have to entertain themselves now is games which they play to pass the time. We square two or three people and make them fight till they die.

When the person who wastes their lives not making much money is an old hat without the head completely useless.

You see a creative genius and a death. Somehow it is a grand prize. You know it is always the weaker who dies. Wordsworth and his love his muse, Then, of course, the things which give us the poems and the artwork. The muse.

But this century it is about a star being born.

Two creative people and one death.

Who dies first?

Then over the centuries, some other star crossed lovers and that meant they had to have one for every century or two. You see it is a game that has to be played economically.

They thought they would play us a trick this time the fates worse the fates were sure to win us all over the world.

You see in England a rich member of rich family play games while they ply the swords and play ducks and drakes with the stories of them who have the gift. I am sorry did it startle you the sudden shift?

This is a game which they play to pass the time.

So while the two protagonists are shouting and screaming at each other the points system is a bit like a card system. It matters nothing at all but who lasts the longest.

So our honour bound friend in his honourable manner went. He could not handle it he was not wanted. He made his excuses and was gone. With her meekly holding onto him as if for dear life.

Honour is a man's way of not thinking and making love to his new woman without any guilt or remorse. I just said screaming and screaming you fool. But he ceased to hear.

Rage like blood wallowed inside me and sent shivers down my spine until I froze. He did not feel a thing he did not fear me the silly oddball the silly stupid sty would be always here waiting for the long thoughtless man.

While they lived and partied and parried and begot and all that. I stood there holding some thought. Something which had been taken before I had let it go.

He screamed let me go and let me go and let me go. I said no. Until in the end, I did. It crushed into ribbons the moment I did.

"I am unwell."

"Mother is so much more unwell."

“In the pink, we are in the pink.” Someone sang as they led themselves out and then disappeared. He danced as if the whole of his feet were on fire.

"We did not want that dancing toes. He was most dangerous as he sang and danced."

He is a star,

"He is in a bad mood?"

"Make him feel comfortable."

"Not she any of our girl's women wives anything he wants."

"Filthy mood."

“There is a lot to do and what to do in the little time left to do it.”

“Where is the washing? Not done.”

Dad the real dad hated the washing not being done. We were done for if it was dirty.

"No writing or reading no educated work shall be done without the washing and the house being cleaned."

“What is there to be done when nobody helps me.”

“Waste want not.”

My mother has died and I do not know what to feel. Was it a break was it a time washed out? What had happened to us all? My sister is grieving and she still cries. I am relieved I did not much belong with my mother. But B did.

“Wasting your life on me?” said her husband charmed by her. She is his bombshell and he is her handsome guy. They belonged they were a unit a family united by ties so primal that they let go of the thoughts of feelings of the kindness of other people they just believed in each other.

It felt he had found his youth and himself and his manhood. She brought out the beast and the man in him. He got stronger and stronger and left the strange girl who loved him and she ceased to be anyone in his life. But a friend from the past a pet a family pet.

Love was wasted on him.

He now wore clothes so rich in splendour and splendidly displayed his new body built body. He had nothing but good vibes for everyone until one day there was nothing left of his former self.

His head in the clouds for some years and he did not want it to end that happy carefree life of ease and plenty. His wife took him and his needs and sent him to the cleaner while they parried and partied she was in the closet waiting to take herself out.

His threadbare shirts are now fully lined and stitched. His gracious selfies and all doubts removed he was settled into doing what Donn had done what they all had done before him. In the new Dollhouse, the rich family were watching as he played with his mannequins.

In her heyday love suited them both.

The family were in stitches.