Sometimes I Am Cardboard That Dreams

Well, sometimes it does do that, but I’m sure it will wash out… eventually.

I’m not sure if the chicken is meant to cross the road, however, certainly not whilst dressed as a geography teacher, anyway. Not even if it does have the name of the local tadpole diversity outreach coordinator tattooed across the underside of its left wing.

But having said that, now wish I hadn’t, at least not whilst wearing these trousers and your favourite purple peephole bra. 

Sometimes I dream of cardboard.

Sometimes I dream of a strange old man who lies there dreaming of cardboard.

Sometimes I am cardboard that dreams of old men.

Some times are sometimes other times.

Yes, I know it is twitching.

She was the one who like to play bagpipes in the nude. I could see nothing against it (except for the bagpipes, of course) however, there were others in the post office queue who expressed concern, especially over her choice of repertoire and the fact that her goat ate all the postal orders.

Ah, well, we are all young once.