crooked stick, sleep


another bent stick

Last night I dreamed of Vela.

We were in bed together in the old house. She was sitting up, on her laptop, planning her future without me.

Vela left the room, and naturally I sneaked a look at the laptop. There were several files open, all of them had long lists of my failings and her many disappointments with me.

And then Vela returned to the room and caught me looking. But rather than shoot me for invading her privacy, she directed me to another file that I’d missed.

I was about to read it when my bent penis woke me up, erect and urging me to go and at least empty my bladder. 

Each morning I look at it bentness and sigh. How did it/ things get so out of shape?