And Everyone Sang

Last night after going out we went to McDonalds (for me the first time in many years I went there). The food tasted like molten plastic (as it does everywhere). Outside, an drunk overaged prostitute sat drinking a bottle of liquor. A few minutes earlier we had her seen smashing her first (empty) bottle on the pavement. She had also punched a friendly Canadian guy. Now she was showing her breasts and brabbling/shouting "fuck me!" to somebody who didn't appear to be there anymore. And there she sat, wrinkled breasts and scarred alcoholic face - the three of us eating our polyester food.
Sad human being(s) waiting to feel the nothingness of death.
A policecar drove by and stopped. Two policemen stepped out, one of them struggled to put on his gloves so as not to touch her. I don't know what they next did to her. We had finished killing ourselves and it was time for bed.


Sleep isn't such a bad idea these days. Dreaming of escaping now gives me my bliss. I dreamt a couple of nights ago I was in a plane crash just after someone had declared his love for me. Everything felt so real that I even felt the burning of the explosion inside of me. I woke up sweating and shivering not sure where that warmth had come from. It didn't even feel like a nightmare. I'm off to the beach or the park (not sure yet) and read a bit in the sun.