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The Closed Cosy World Of Just A Six Year Old

A life time in A day- A life in the Day-time

The Closed Cosy World Of Just A Six Year Old

A life time in a day-

A life in the day time

Being too low for anybody to look you square- makes it impossible for anybody to directly say anything that can sink straight into your soul and rot. And above all you have never and can never be wrong… how beautiful.

Nobody in the house possesses an alarm clock- me and my brother do that job just fine, getting you up earlier than you would have wanted. Unlike alarm clocks, with us once you’re up- you are up! There is no snooze- no contingency that keeps you swollen in sleep.

The jump from the top bunk stuns any rare spell of drowsiness that the morning may bring. You say good morning to the world and go fetch you a big ass bowl of cereal!

You have the plastic spoon! The one that came free in the box of nesquick- the fusing colours of yellow and brownish purple gives the spoon great value and infact you laugh at the other members of the house that hold a metal spoon. A family friend turns to you and blurts out, “When you are older- you will think that spoon is ridiculous and you will want a metal spoon just like this one…” You continue to laugh- slightly more hysterically now- he is wrong, what does he know? His statement sounded so bizarre.

Your bowl of cereal was demolished seven minutes ago- but you have managed to create some kind of game out of your plastic spoon and bowl… and in doing so you have lost complete consciousness of time.

You jump at the announcement made- that it is time to get dressed. You swing the closet door open and grab the first two things you see and get dressed.

Our Relationship with the floor can never be the same… we have trampled all over it for just too many years. But when the relationship started it was a beautiful thing. The floor taught me how to walk and a fall would never bring us such harm at that time. We would fall countless times a day and the floor would never punish us for it. Whereas now the floor is unforgiving to fall onto, and he has every right to be.

We would sprout life from the floor… whether it was through play, or just the belief that the floor was incapable of killing you… the floor was one of the greatest companions we ever had. And as far as indoors go- there were never any walls nor ceilings… those things are only apparent in a game of hide and seek. Otherwise the surroundings of the room would of course be the invisible audience- who else?

Anything you make is good- you appreciate all that comes from your hands.

It would be typical in any family for mum and dad to articulate an exquisite meal in the evening- and to get the family happily together mum and dad would delegate tiny contributions that require no effort nor skill (such as grating cheese for example) would be delegated to the kids. And it would be typical for a civilised dinner table conversation to go as follows;

Mum; “How is my chicken honey?”

Dad; “Absolutely exquisite dear, and how are my potatoes mom?”

Mum; “They are heavenly dear”

The two share a smile acknowledging their happy lives- and then incomes the kid;

Kid; “How is my cheese Dad and Mum?”

Dad; (Flatly) Fine son, just fine.

It is dinner time and if you obtained the power to command the dinner you desired at a finger-click… nothing would change… it would remain fish fingers and chips.

The sun is on its last legs and as the evening shifts in- every room is occupied by a different character. The colour of the kitchen is yellow and the ghastly vision of the woman- who is bone thin- with skin like black carved wood and a long stretched face remains present. That character must have derived from those boutique African sculptures you see when you walk through the segment of the local market that is candellised by the smell of in scents. The bathroom is habited by another long face- Identical to Bach’s- the scream. The living room is haunted by medusa and the bedroom has multiple characters- one of which has four muscular arms.

The bathroom is where you do your reflecting- secret role plays and secret work out exercises… you must constantly be attentive to the bathroom door handle as the bathroom lock is feeble and just the thought of the embarrassment of having your secret operations walked-in on is almost enough to end the world.

None of this is escapism… It all just simply happens to be the ideal world YOU ARE LIVING IN.

Night time- and the family is all bunched around the TV… they pay no attention to you as their brains are inside the box… but their technical presence is just enough to combat your fear of the dark.

-Once you are alone in the dark your fear of it grips you. So you have to do all you can to never find yourself in that position… the panicked state of mind is capable of cruel visions.

It is exciting to stay up late-

and when I say late I obviously mean

any time after 20:30 pm. I have to give it to

Them… night time TV gets exciting.

When we are all engaged into

The TV I have to keep an

Ear out, for

When mum warns me

To look away. I always found

It magical how on earth mum knew when

the scary bits were coming. Funnily enough

I had the privilege not to be ordered to Look

away at the nude scenes although The

whole scene I would feel uncomfortable

As though the entire rooms was

Analysing where my eyes

were focussing on. &

So I would sneak

Peaks but never


What is it about women- we have the most profound love towards women at that age- to the extent where they feel out of reach. And I think to myself when I see pretty little girls, at school, in class or whereever… how can a grown man not be attracted to her like I am- and why would that be wrong?


I con mum into thinking I have brushed my teeth then I stand at the foot of my towering bunk bed. I climb the ladder like Jack and the beanstalk- what is a beanstalk anyway? I never understood that for the sake of my life…

The top bunk feels like the top of the world.

I lay down- the chant of “It’s my birthday tomorrow, it’s my birthday tomorrow” is ringing through my head and after a while of enchanted birthday fantasies- I sleep and DREAM.

I reluctantly wake up- and the bags under my eyes are jelling my eye lids shut. With a bear groan I thrust myself up emphatically and tumble off the top bunk and fall from it. It’s not so high but I land on my arse and it hurts like fuck!

I am looking up from the floor… the floor is cold and uninviting. I am looking up at the very place I just fell from, the very place I slept… I should have known better than to sleep in a cupboard!

Outside the sun is high it is some point in midday. I move to get dressed- I am freezing regardless of the weather outside, in here it is gloomy- keeping the cold in and the warmth out.

I rustle through old dusty clothes that are stuffed in a bin bag that is planted on the concrete floor like a vegetable.

I have an urgency to wake someone up- and announce my birthday… but nobody is home. “Meh- what is the point in birthdays anyway?”

The only thing I was planning on doing for my birthday was to scout around through other men’s junk. Heck as it is my birthday maybe I could run into some birthday luck and find a new building to squat in… I am sure I could find a better place than I am in right now.

I get up with the intention of leaving- after taking a piss and scratching my arse a further two times- I say “Ah fuck it- NEVERMIND… maybe some new squatters will come to me today”. I crack open a tin of cold baked beans and slice my hand open whilst doing so… although I only noticed the gash on my palm with a quarter of the tin left as the blood diluted with the bean sauce. I ate it anyway.

The day is underway and already I have contemplated suicide with a blade.

I wish to write but don’t even know how to read- I am out of reach from even the things in life that are free.

I walk back into the bathroom opposing the mirror and have the bathroom window over my shoulder; “I hate myself” I look out to the window;

“I hate people” Back at the mirror;

“I hate myself” Back at the window

“I hate people”

And continue jumping from the mirror to the window until I am unsure where or who I am;

“I hate my wealth, I create evil

I ate my health, I had a poo-poo

I am stealth, I am see through

Am I all there, Am I cuckoo?”

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