Δευτέρα, 5 Ιανουαρίου 2015

You know when that thing happens, that you dream of someone that you don't want to dream of? Well, that did not happen to me at all, this time, but I thought I would write about it, because I can do that. Yes. Imagination BIATCH.






Haha.
I saw you in my dream
 ,you deepshit.
I saw you in my dream
We were dancing through fire 
holding hands made of alabaster and diamonds.
I hissed at you and you clawed my face with your fake, female, gigantic, red-painted, baroque nails
and we laughed ourselves to death
and we laughed ourselves till we shat our pants.
I saw you in my dream
 ,you deepshit,
we  were camping inside a whale's belly and the marshmallows we were holding with sticks in the fire tasted like your tears.
She spit us out, we said good-bye
I got her number, though,
so
,yeah, 
maybe I'll take that gorgeous whale on a movie-date sometime
not thinking about you, though.
I saw you in my dream
 ,you deepshit
I saw you in my dream
we were hopping on purple cock-shaped mushrooms made of felt in a green grassy field,
we were tired so we sat down on the grass and we started  eating our fingers, you said they tasted like my mum's
(vagina) [Oh, predicted the un-predictable, did ya? Oh yes, you are a wizard ,dear.]
I saw you in my dream
You were having my baby
but it was made of excrements, so we realized we were wrong and you weren't really pregnant, you were just taking a really magnanimus dump
so we wouldn't have to ontologically worry ourselves to pieces for having to raise a child in this crumbling economy of an unethical egotistic capitalist hell-hole,
so I stopped paternally holding your clenched arm beside the labour-bed inside the maternity ward of the hospital,
and you stopped sweating for no reason and practising your Lamaze breath exercises
and we were both relieved 
on so many levels.
I saw you in my dream
 ,you deepshit
We were singing in a catholic boys' choir and then you started singing bubbles instead of notes
I looked at you with astonished be-puzzlement
you started crying and confessed you drank my shampoo because you wanted to taste my smell on your breath when you masturbated-your depression-away at nights. This speech was particularly funny, as, part of your intonation was a swarm of on-going bubble-making.
The church’s flock was shocked, though.
So I yelled: "GAY PEOPLE ARE NICE" to their faces and we left through the main red- carpeted corridor dancing like ballerinas to in-audible Tschaikowsky's Nutcracker.
We promised on our mothers' tombs we would go to that church again, next Sunday.
I saw you in my dream
 ,you deepshit,
Would you pleeease oblige me and get the fuck out of my dreams
I want to dream I am waiting in line on a bank to pay my electricity bills
I want to dream I am nerve-wreckingly writing university exams I was never adequately prepared for.
       Can you get the fuck out of my dreams,
                                                 pretty please.
 

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