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last night

last night i dreamt. i dreamt that i’d somehow, someway, managed to fuck you. yes. fuck. you. crazy, right? let me tell you: it was glorious. utterly glorious. sure, you’re last on the list of “friends i’d like to fuck,” but it’s only a list of two, so it’s not that bad. and, after that, when i woke up, i felt this sort of crushing dissapointment that it was just a dream, mixed with an odd feeling of familiarity, of maybe having dreamt that same exact dream before. i wasn’t sure, but it sure felt like it.

and then i woke up again, this time for real. the sun was shining, the birds were twittering and, staring at the ceiling, i knew, deep down inside, that i’d never, ever, ever get to fuck you.

but hey, that’s why god blessed us pathetic apes with imaginations, right?

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Categories: prose and poetry
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