Cleavage 3

This is a mess. It's revolting. I wake up and go to sleep surrounded by filth and abandon. I'm an orphan of life. I breathe and I rot.

If I was to die in my sleep it would be such a decadent sight to the one who'd find my naked body in bed, between sheets of sweat, sperm and spit. The three magic Ss. And who would that be exactly? My landlord complaining about the rent? The neighbours complaining about the stench? A thief in the night complaining about the amount of worthless shit I've always found hard to get rid of and that currently reside on top of every flat surface in the house?

What do I care? It's not disturbing enough to make me change so I guess it's just not disturbing at all. Not in my sick, coward mind.

In a few years I'm part of a great group of people that get together to share life experience. And we love one another. We live in harmony. We sing in harmony. We are all gifted people with much hunger for knowledge. And every odd day we throw caution to the wind and have a ball. Skin dances with skin and skin and skin and skin and tongue. And we're all part of something beautiful. A glorious all powerful being that breathes and thinks and makes mistakes and learns from them. An organism that loves. A love unashamed and unreserved. With a heart that's unbreakable and impervious to jealousy, doubt or fear.

Yes.

No.

Fucking dreams will be the end of me.

Where did I put her number... Oh.

"Hey Martha, yeah it's me.
...
So you're still home?
...
Yeah, I'll be there in twenty.
...
Yeah, right, see you soon."