four nights ago one of the plastic dumpsters caught fire and kept burning until morning it offered light and warmth and the best part... as it grew ever smaller with melting, it resembled a statuette of a female figure licking lustfully at it's own hands joined in prayer It would've been a sin not to take her home He had no home other than the abandoned building he lived in though, so he took her there and joined her in prayer and made love to it many times, his lips black from caressing the burnt plastic this morning too he defecates on it and spreads the stuff all over her face to keep her alive There is infinite happiness in his success She starts talking to him, uttering kind words he'd never heard from humans in his life “My love,” she says, “your genuine appreciation of my beauty pleases me…
that love is a strange thing we need not remind ourselves again too much has been said about the damn thing and not enough has been felt we're not getting anywhere like that, are we? Rather than talk about it just allow yourself to feel Maybe go out, open the trunk of your car and find among the junk the thick, white rope that not too long ago circled her throat she wanted to die that day but you wouldn't let her followed her into the forest, you have. And tackled her at the base of the wide oak tree with low branches you robbed her of her rope like robbing an elderly lady of her purse in some dark parking lot She cried and held on to it but you were more determined life won over death that day life has to win over death every day, while death…
5. Where did you get the idea for your Daydreaming as a Profession blog site? Was it something you’ve always wanted to do? And how long has it been in existence? Daydreaming is and was always my favorite activity. And the one I’m really good at (because it happens effortlessly). I’ve been doing it all my life, but never thought I could create something tangible from it. Now pretty much every poem is the result of daydreaming. Growing up, I’ve often been told that I daydream too much. The Romanian expressions for daydreaming sound something along the lines of, “to dream with one’s eyes open,” and my personal favorite, “to dream of green horses on the walls”. Goodness, I can’t recall how many times I’ve heard that in my life. If someone could show me snapshots of my life, 85% of them would probably be of me holding a fixed…
the building was scheduled to be demolished it was already just a pile of rubble standing somewhat together It'll probably be demolished by the same local company that rejected his application for a job When you're homeless not even demolition companies will hire you Or perhaps it was because he kept making advances to the manager who interviewed him Well, he was drunk and thought the manager was quite beautiful in her worker's attire so he got double rejected Eh, wouldn't be for the first time though If you don't make friends with rejection it'll become your stalker "Fuckin' shit!" he said, kicking at the corner of a wall and dislodging a piece of concrete He would've kicked some more but didn't wanna do the job for the damned company that rejected him There was nothing else to do but get down, stand with the back against…
Daydreaming as a profession 