More uplifting stuff from the master of mirth

I trundle home in the fucking cold and my brain is doing the speed of light and my thoughts become concentric like orbiting uninhabitable planets rotating faster and faster around each other until all is City Road, people, cars, a punch in my gut and as I have these ‘thoughts’ I think of them as they spin in their grooves and feel like an observer to some complicated, intricate but ultimately mortal synchronised swimming act and what the fuck is that all about and as that thought begins its infinite orbit I am again aware that I am thinking a million things at once, except now it’s a million plus one and so it goes thundering ahead like a meat grinder intent on making the world to mince and it’s only Wednesday and apologies have to be made, tasks taken care of and a brave face needs putting on complete with cracks and uncloaked indifference to the point of violence and then it’s Thursday and so it goes and I’m falling behind, life has overtaken and all I want is sleep and control but I seem to get neither and I’m used to that now and I shudder in the wind as I near Walter Sickert Road and I know my phone will ring as soon as I get in and I know I won’t answer it and it hurts and I’m flooded with guilt and a feeling of hopelessness and I don’t want to speak to anyone and I know I should but I can’t and as I think this I get angry, angry at the world, angry at myself, angry with myself, and the world can go fuck itself and it’s dark outside because it’s winter but that doesn’t matter and I walk past the same old council estates thinking the same old thoughts wondering where it all went and it’s only Wednesday and then what?