The Melancholy that eats my head

One day when i'm rich and famous, living on a yacht in the mediteranean, chilling out with a glass of the most expensive whisky ever, smoking a fantastic cigar and loving life, maybe then i will be amped for tomorrow morning...but as it stands all that awaits me is the melancholy horror of lectures, whack students and academics and all those other ridiculous varsity related things that i find boring and slightly unnerving.

5 years behind the books, at times a rollicking journey, now just feeling like a waste of my youthful vitality and like something that enjoys munching on my brain. It feels long, my skin feels stretched, my maturity unrealised to its full extent. 5 years and I still lack a real appreciation of what is responsibility, i've travelled but i'm not independent and I'm starting to feel like my past experiences, while important at the time, are slowly losing relevance to my life.

So, I'm left with a hunger for experience and a gaping hole in my stomach as i wait for the end of the year.

P.S. This was a classic El Hermo Rant

Cracked

As you were,

long dark hair gliding in the breezy chill.
Your hands, warming your coat pockets.
Your arm wrapped round mine.

My bottled message
washed ashore,
You lifted off the seaweed
And saw through the muck.

What you glimpsed was well written,
proofread,
but still
you hurled it back
into choppy waters.

As I am,

still afloat
but cracked
and taking water.

I, ball

WARNING - NOT FOR SENSITIVE VIEWERS

You stick your finger in your eyeball
and scream and scream and scream,
your piercing nail tearing through
like a rusted scraping dream.
Tears like ketchup pouring forth,
a sauce soaking your shirt,
the fabric, dark, is darkened more
by your pasty human squirt.