Kittylove Stories

Sometimes I wonder what age people think I am. I mean, I know I don’t act like I’m 29, but I am, sadly. I’m 29 and still get asked for ID. Even for fag papers. Okay, so I don’t buy them any more because I’ve given up smoking, but over the past year, I have for friends who still smoke. It’s kinda sad, but I was always know as the one who had the perpetual fag in his gob. I love how British that sentence is. Anyway, what ag...

I don’t mind people farting, but I’m sitting here like a terrorist. By which I mean that I’m sitting with my t-shirt covering my face and can scarcely be identified. This is not good. I want one day without someone farting. Yeah, you read this right, I’m writing a musing about farting. Fart fart, you think you’re smart,But really I want a horse and cart,To takeYou away and quell the smell,One moreFart and that’ll be my de...

A trio of poems about my favourite drinks, first Tea:A cup of tea,is a labour of love,boil the kettle,warm the pot...A spoonful of leaves,One for each personand another for the pot,it really requires very little thought,but a lot of love.Infuse infuse, for five minutes or more,it really never is a chore.The satisfaction of a lovely cup,is that "aah" at the endand the warm feeling deep inside...a cup of tea, a labour of lo...

The winter grains.They bring such a different texture:not harsh, though not too smooth,still warm, though a little chilly.They warm to my mouth,clinging and burning,gently. And the smell!Burning my nostrils,bringing tears to my eyes!My eyes, they close. savouring youletting you sit there, in my mouth,in my nose, in my heart, burning my chest.You, my Lady, are a conflagration,a fire spreading through my chest, my body.Neve...