limes from mexico arent actually very funny or interesting

I've been shit at this recently
I just can't seem to crawl inside my brain properly anymore
I'd like to curl up there,
sleep there for a week, warm and alone with my thoughts.

Or perhaps that's a fucking terrible idea, I'll never know.

My week so far has consisted of late nights and early mornings
Chewing on filter tips in the pub garden
Falling asleep with Rob's examless head resting on my calf
on Sean's bed watching Dexter's Laboratory
at 2:30 when he wanted to go to bed at 1:00
Walk home swallowing the dark trees with my eyelids, burning my temples with cannabis.

Yesterday I naively attempted to persuade the new students at our college to join the creative writing enrichment in my borrowed grey "Enrichment" hoodie. They seem so damn tiny, and uninterested, I think maybe if they grew an inch their enthusiasm would mutate into some kind of ugly fetish and that would be terrifying, it's best they stay short.

However we've got some people interested. Interest is something that seems to invoke this repulsive closed-mouth smile within me, and I babble away about poetry to people holding maps. I'm sat in the college library right now across from somebody saying he's "got loads of work to do". I find it weird that there are actually people here working after all the exams have dripped away and we're left with our lack of anything to do... I've forgotten what it's like to be stressed about education, right now all I feel towards it is a kind of content apathy. I sometimes just wish I had bones the consistency of strawberry laces so I could curl over and eat myself, starting at my feet. It would be something to pass the time.

Sometimes when I read back my blog entries I hear Sophie Dahl's voice and I wonder if maybe I sound a bit pretentious.