Two Sentence Stories

Maybe every lie is a year of punishment in the afterlife.
You have six so far.

The peas cried.
And so did I.

You left me behind.
Without a bum my pants will fall down.

My noun went pro.
I still have my amateur status.

Socks for sandwiches.
Trade in your old socks now.

Hear the chant of thousands.
Listen to their demands.

Glass is melted sand.
A pony is a unicorn that has lost its horn.

Sometimes I think about all the books I’ll never write.
Most of them are about you.

Embrace the random moment that is climbing in your window.
C’mon – have sex with the cat-burglar.

You love me for my sincerity, honesty and good moral values.
I wish you loved me for my huge cock and dirty fucking.

Every few days I check the moral measure.
I’m sure we’ll get to “Evil” one day little buddy.

I toned down what I really thought so you’d go out with me.
Marxism vs Sex – you know what people will always choose, right?

Na na naaa na naa naanann na naaaa.
Still just great back-up lyrics.

I am the order sorter.
You are the chaotic jigsaw box.

I suggest we call it “Losergate” but no one listened.
Fine, call it “the annual board meeting” it you want, losers.

If you turn around really really quickly you might be lucky enough to see the words floating behind you.
If they say “totally fucked” well, you know.

Close the toilet door and close your mouth.
I don’t want to see you piss and I don’t want to hear you talk shit, darling.

I can finally feel my forgiveness for you growing!
It should be ready to blossom about two days after you die.

When I wrote to you and told you about that dream I had with you, I didn’t mention that we were having sex.
I have no idea why I dreamt that, but it was fricken hot and now I’m wondering …