Just keeps going.
Something unheard somewhere, pulsing slow and thick, unstoppable.
Inhaling something from somewhere else, exhaling strong and in secret here.
The sun was covered in scrotal bumps.
Something slowly writhing underneath. A thousand squirming orbs.
Silent and explosive solar flares;
they didnt light up my night, but they were here, I felt them pass through.
Followed closely by you.
It wont end really, will it.
Meh. Those dreams didnt mean anything. They lacked that aural feeling. Theres no guy named Elvis, those photos you showed me didnt prove anything. I dont care how much joy you got out of showing them to me, I know they dont exist. I know you never did that stuff. Besides, you always said you never liked a Prince Albert.
I know that the Opus didnt vacate their offices. I know you and your demanding artist friend (the woman that took the photos?) are not going to rent it out. Her and her boyfriend, Elvis (nice name buddy you dont look a thing like him) dont have your best interests in mind. I dont care how nice that fireplace is, the stone mantle. There is no Spanish villa here, so that isnt happening.
You did look nice though, Ill give you that. Thats fake too though, but kudos to you for coming up with such a thoroughly convincing faade. Id almost go as far as saying you looked hot, almost. That dress was really nice.
It was nice to see you though, I liked just hanging out like that, before you got those photos developed. Too bad we couldnt do that more often huh? I found a great recipe using Gorgonzola cheese and roasted garlic. I bet youd love it and youd probably end up making it better than me, like my Caesar dressing. ( I still win with the croissants though. )
I also know that was your pomegranate. I was pretty sure about that almost immediately. That was not about my life.
Well, your happiness was always a huge part of my concern. Sadly, it still is, so I wish you the best with this. Real or not.
Something unheard somewhere, pulsing slow and thick, unstoppable.
Inhaling something from somewhere else, exhaling strong and in secret here.
The sun was covered in scrotal bumps.
Something slowly writhing underneath. A thousand squirming orbs.
Silent and explosive solar flares;
they didnt light up my night, but they were here, I felt them pass through.
Followed closely by you.
It wont end really, will it.
Meh. Those dreams didnt mean anything. They lacked that aural feeling. Theres no guy named Elvis, those photos you showed me didnt prove anything. I dont care how much joy you got out of showing them to me, I know they dont exist. I know you never did that stuff. Besides, you always said you never liked a Prince Albert.
I know that the Opus didnt vacate their offices. I know you and your demanding artist friend (the woman that took the photos?) are not going to rent it out. Her and her boyfriend, Elvis (nice name buddy you dont look a thing like him) dont have your best interests in mind. I dont care how nice that fireplace is, the stone mantle. There is no Spanish villa here, so that isnt happening.
You did look nice though, Ill give you that. Thats fake too though, but kudos to you for coming up with such a thoroughly convincing faade. Id almost go as far as saying you looked hot, almost. That dress was really nice.
It was nice to see you though, I liked just hanging out like that, before you got those photos developed. Too bad we couldnt do that more often huh? I found a great recipe using Gorgonzola cheese and roasted garlic. I bet youd love it and youd probably end up making it better than me, like my Caesar dressing. ( I still win with the croissants though. )
I also know that was your pomegranate. I was pretty sure about that almost immediately. That was not about my life.
Well, your happiness was always a huge part of my concern. Sadly, it still is, so I wish you the best with this. Real or not.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
The voice is always there no matter what takes place while my body rests.
You have made your self clear to your sleeping self. Yet your sleeping self takes you to a place and you are with her there. Are these dreams confronting your sleeping self? Are you looking at that part of you that wishes could have been different? Does that part of you now know that they will never be?
You're heart is in the right place to wish her all the best. Whether you are awake or you are the sleeping self.
Bathtubs, yeah. Nothing beats the 7-foot tub in that bed & breakfast I crashed in after a day of "Munro-bagging" in Scotland. But, my whirlpool tub at home does fit me. It's just under 6-feet, but deep, so with bent knees I can get up to my neck. It's fitting two that proves difficult.