There day he threatened my mum with an ice cream scoop, it was in the morning I can't be arsed with family bullshit before 10 and pretty much blanked it. Ice cream for breakfast, its not anyone's birthday. Yesterday he came home from the pub pissed and pissed off, pretty normal Sunday. Sometimes hes cheery drunk for a little while anyway. He tried to open a cupboard the one with the remaining child lock with frustrated him so he snapped it of, saying something about there being no need for them. I wasn't feeling too tolerant, the pain had come on pretty quick and intense, so I snapped back saying dad was there any need for that? He got right in my face saying don't start with me.

Me and mum agreed it was time to get real, again. Or maybe even for the first time.

A pal phones latter about another pal who isn't coping too well with a relationship ending. He says hes picking us up Thurs. I'm pretty ready, NFA. Time to move on. I just hope someone can get a hold of a cot bed.

Two poem ideas one about music, and about my dad = one good poem.

Popular posts from this blog

Watered and fed the Roses

How do you know Savile to?