7 long hours

Hello

I managed to get my last essay in on time, which was a relief. Although, it wasn't the best piece of work i've ever produced. In fact it was about as good as aids. Today brought another rush to meet the deadline, the dreaded deadline, that always sneaks up on me without me paying it too much attention. Maybe i'll learn from it this time, though the chances are my ostrich instincts will kick back in. I live by the sea and i like sand.
Todays project was editing a documentary for a media course. I expected it to only take another hour or so, yet i was working from 1pm up until 8pm. Rather annoying as the weather was lovely, a perfect day to bury my head in the sand and tan my ass!!

Todays poem, after sitting by a computer for 7 hours non-stop, with a drawn face and dry eyes i thought this would be fitting...

Internet Player
The only bags for life he carries, are the ones under his eyes
From stalking the internet at 3am, lurking, to surprise
Any like minded lass, who likewise fancies a chat
Straight into cyber, the small talk/foreplay don’t last long, cos he’s got the knack for that.
On msn he cant fail at all, cant do himself no harm
If it goes wrong he turns off his pc, when he cant turn on his charm
He stalks and talks, frantically searching for internet lust
Pictures don’t matter too much, cos in this world no ones fussed
Morning springs. His phone rings, he knows what its about
Its an old pals birthday and all the lads are going out
But giving up the opportunity to get out on an “all-dayer”
He thinks “its easier at home, where I can be an internet player”
So he ignores the phone and leaves it there ringing
Better off in here he thinks, cos outside he feels minging
They all say “you need some sun on that skeletal, drawn face”
But he shuffles away back to his lair, cos he’s a fucking disgrace.

Now, time for a cup of tea :)