The smell of freshly chewed drgaon fruit corrupts the scented, hand-picked leather seats. Truly, the epitome of riding on clouds. She reaches from the other side to fix my pinstriped lapelle. A silky black tie in her way. The reflections of the moon are shy tonight, after dimming to the shine of my benzo.
I put my rough scabbed hand on your pearly soft thigh. "Pull that out for me, will ya?" The gleams of a 1000 excited firefloes shine on her see-through skin. A hue of lusty red and pink fill up the space. Her fragile fingers, soft and long , weaker than a twig, more precious than a winter's leaf, pulls it down.
A torn, sulfuric smelling, nethered book. The S class never mentioned auto-turbulance adjustment, so we felt all the reactions manifested in physical effects. "Your dreams" in an unelligible form of cursive english written on the top. "Isn't that yours, doc?". The unwaunted thruth turned her prettiest eyes into bullseyes to me, an unlimited amount of darts in my holster.
I flick the book out of the window. But the reeking smell of it never goes. It's like my forefathers in the arabia. The finest musk had no chance against the perfume made from camel dunk. The scent of Your dreams is way too personal ... and potent to leave me alone. I swim in it. In a pool, it keeps me afloat. I peek outside as the lust of red climbs over me...I can already smell the 100s of souls she has consumed over the years. I handcrafted my dreams and worked on them brick by brick.
The rains and storms were just a celebration of greater things to come. Now I'm riding on a benzo. Don't want to drive slow. Speed with my eyes closed. Why do all the slum panhandlers look like me? I do not know. Some know me. Some are me. They remind me of what I could do. Some give me solutions to problems of a 1000 years old. Some tell me to wake up. One has a motherly voice telling me I've been through worse and I could do more. More say I'm wasting time.
But they're in the slums and I'm in a benzo, with a life sucking dame. In a slum that has no speed limits and only straight roads. Almost picture perfect, as long as I ride my benzo.
Life is what it is now. Carpe diem 😉
Carpe diem....perfect way to put it.