In the bleak half-term

One should never be fourteen, the unique age of the numb. Feel the horrible softening and hardening that squeezes your soul. Obey your parents without ceasing as they nag with chores and rules. And if at some time on the steps of exhaustion, in the untidy hope of excitement, in the bleak half-term of your room you wake up where breakfast is toil. Hate all that which triumphs, all that which screams, all that which hormones drive unruly. Challenge your parents’ constriction. Rage emotions with argument reply. You are the victim of tedium and your friends are the wind of confusion. You are the freedom, the future and sleep without opposition.

– Benjamin F Jones (in the rhythm of Baudelaire)
One should never be fourteen

All that which hormones drive unruly

Advertisements

About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
This entry was posted in Prose Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to In the bleak half-term

  1. I challenge any 14-year-old now to time travel back to the 60s and try out boarding school for a term. It was hell. As for nagging parents — that really isn’t the way to persuade teenagers to co-operate. Even now, the more I’m nagged, the more stubborn I become.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s