Another night of too much cough syrup, I'm awakened by the incessant ringing of a telephone. I still have dreams caked in the corners of my eyes and my mouth is dry, and tastes shitty. Again the ringing.
Slowly I bustle out of bed, the remnants of an erection still lingering in my shorts like a bothersome guest. Again the ringing. Carefully, I abscond to the bathroom as to not display my manhood to others. There, I make the perfunctory morning faces which always seem to precede my daily contribution to the once-blue toilet water that I always enjoy making green. Again the ringing. I shake twice like most others, and I'm annoyed by the dribble that always seems to remain, causing a small acreage of wetness on the front of my briefs. I slowly languidly, lazily, crazily, stumble into the den where my father smokes his guitars, I mean cigars in his easy chair. .I know all about easy chairs and then I sing a song for my friends. Jesus is my boyfriend
Jesus is my boyfriend
You can't have him
Because jesus is my boyfriend!
RINGING RINGING! Dang it goddamn motherfucking son-of-a-bitch is ringing. I walk into the kitchen and I stare blankly at that shrieking plastic bastard since it keeps ringing. I know it's her and since it keeps ringing she knows it's me. We are the world, we are the children, we are the ones who make a darker day. So let's start killing. There's a choice you're making. We're sparing our own lives. It's true we'll make a darker day
Just you and me
YOU ARE READING
short writings
Randomwhatever i write pointlessly or just like, i store here. if it has a ⭐️ it means it's my favourite thing ive wrote :3
