Dressing Up My Dead Girlfriend I always hated overused clichés. "Strawberry-tipped nipples" for example, is one which all erotic writers fall back on at some point or another, but in Mia's case it was true. Hers were the exact shape of the smaller end of a strawberry, though perhaps a little deeper in colour, and had I ever just bitten a little deeper I could imagine my teeth sinking through soft flesh, the sweet sticky juice spraying over my tongue, water springing from my taste buds as the powerful sweetness spread over my tongue. That was the first thing I noticed as I gazed over the lifeless body before me. Those once-pink rosebuds now had a bluish-purple tinge, they were flattened against her chest and there was a small trickle of dried blood above the water level. The rest of her blood had flowed out into the bathwater, giving me the macabre scene I now viewed, Mia laying in the tub as easily as if she was just taking a bubble bath, only the water was clear crimso
PoxI'm sitting on a filthy crumb-filled carpetfull of ground-in raisins and toast crumbswearing a yellow hard-hat several sizes too smalland I wouldn't be anywhere else.I've been awake all night; cuddling and singingstumbling from one room to another, desperateto fix it all and failing in my every effortbut I wouldn't have been anywhere else.We play monotonously. Car goes up, car goes downand a small commanding voice directs the actionand I am tired, so tired I don't understand the gamebut I wouldn't be anywhere else.I receive a kiss, more snot than lips, without thinkingI wipe his nose and mouth with my hands, depositthe mess on my jeans without a second thoughtand I wouldn't be anywhere else.He cries, and whines, his spots are itchy and hedoesn't understand, can't comprehend why I in my wisdomdon't click my fingers and bring it all to an end. I fail himstill I wouldn't be anywhere else.We're exhausted, both of us, though he hides it welldragging me to and fro, to do
Hangin' LaundryI'm hangin' laundry on the linein the sunshine, 'cause I can't afford the dryerand we can't afford the fire that's comin'to our planet if we don't watch whatwe're usin', it's confusin' ain't it?How the well-off bigwigs 'suited pigs'can tell us to cut down while they'redrivin' all around in their thirsty monster carsand flying up against the stars to placeswhere there's people dyin' for a drinkof water while they enjoy wine, and laughter.Someone told me I think too much. I think we're outof touch with reality. I clip the last peg in placeand see another private jet fly overhead.I think too much, they said.
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Haha... nerd puns.You know you're nerdy when you get it.