y body craves for the touch of mashed potatoes, the soft white flesh of the vegetable sliding over my body. i havent slept in fifteen days. only the beautiful rapturous gooey white semi solid plant matter inspires me to continue living. sometimes i like to imagine that the mashed potatoes have accepted me as their loving partner. oh can i dream.
How am I supposed to breathe? I try to relax. I touch your still frame So I can watch you closer And study the ways I believe I belong to you I scratch at your waist line… your doll hair I dig up the thought of how your eyes glow So I make you my religion, my collision, an escape goat So have I found your secret weak spot, baby?
15 days left….That’s less than 20. It’s like two weeks….Oh frick I’m getting nervous. I’m feeling all kinds of emotions. I wish my mind would just stop. I keep thinking and I don’t want to think. I just want these two weeks to go by in a blur. I want them to be gone before I notice they are going. I need to make myself busy. I’ll be there soon baby.
“I met my wife at a Star Trek convention. She was study abroad from France and spoke little English, and I didn’t know a lick of French. So, for the first few months of our relationship, we communicated by speaking Klingon.”—