Refugee from the Dream

Ithat first love, never that first kiss, never the first time you tasted, heard, felt something. It never is.

Seek more. You are left always searching for something else. but you don't know what the fuck it is or where the fuck it is so you know you are off to poor start.

I am one of those "What’s Next" people.

Yes, it’s nice to have something to come home to, but it wont be long until you have bees in your britches and need to see more, feel more, hear more, taste more…

That is ingrained in my being as much as my hair and eye colour.

This leaves few choices…or many choices.

I could stay here and go about my day knowing that there is reciprocated love and appreciation. That is nice.

I could cook it breakfast to keep it satiated.

I could wash it's clothes

s to keep it smelling halfway decent

I could fuck it and turn it in to a Youtube sensation...

I could make it a breakfast, to what end? It'll just dirty the toilet bowl again.  

Alternatively, I could salute, say, “So long. Thanks for all the fish.” And disappear to far away places.

I want both.

I am not greedy. I am whimsical. I am not entirely responsible.

I am now bored.