Whoops I Wasn't Meant To Be Here

Out of force of habit, I suddenly clicked, clicked and clicked and found myself here 'creating a post' when I didn't want to come here at all tonight because I have NOTHING to report. Wow, that's a conversation killer. So I'll now drivel on about crap for the next few minutes or so - just to get your moneys worth. My cold is leaving me. That's the good news. But I haven't left my house in over a week and am starting to feel like a hibernating animal - a hedgehog would be good. Tomorrow I'm determined to face the real world, leave my house, in normal clothes - as in not black velvet trousers and old t shirts - on my detox diet. I have NO idea if I've lost anything - as my mother has hidden the scales because I kept jumping on to them every morning to see if there was any change and I haven't tried any of my clothes on, so I don't know. Plus I'm continuing this diet until I've lost all my weight, so the scales and me won't be seeing eachother until another 4 weeks. So, will this work? Will I keep my will power up and racing to the end? So many times I've jumped ship after a few weeks, crying out for FOOD and NICE THINGS TO EAT AND NICE THINGS TO DRINK LIKE WINE! Will I be victorious this time? Well, er, um, ah, maybe. It has been hard what with being ill and the 'curse' to get through and now back to normal living, what's harder? Perhaps normal living because when I was ill I could hide under the duvet, not do anything, not see anyone and sleep away my hunger - NOW I HAVE TO BE NORMAL AGAIN. Shit. Feck.

With all the recent things in the news - the killings of the armish children in the US, the constant suicide bombings in Iraq and even the Conservative party conference in Brighton - the weather changing, the winds picking up and the rain lashing down, I've been trying to write 'serious' poetry, trying to put my soul into a few words and instead of commenting on such and such, here's my offering in poetry form:

Earth not earth, trees dying
In the park they mark out
The course of root and flower
As if they had the whole
shooting match under control.
We may see another hour
one more Spring, an item
assumed by the authority.
We may presume the dawn
but still be sleeping when,
despite the regulation depth
and measured line, the golden
Host fails, at last, to shine.

Wow that was nice and depressing, that has made me feel a whole lot better!!!!! Not! Sorry guys, I actually think I'm depressed. O dear.

Cheerful comments please! (What? After that Emy Jane, you must be kidding!)

Emy x