Dreams

Kitten Ballad

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As heavy smoking wrecks havoc on my lungs, I reminisce on the potential lovers I pissed off and pissed on before I gave them the chance to wrap their pretty pink lips around my somewhat thick drum stick.

For I am God’s gift to women, the man who can do no wrong while spiraling out of control in a whirlwind of chaos and tits.

While I legitimately enjoy the prospect of no holds barred sex with the whores of Instagram, my biggest turn on is a nice and wholesome brunette who cooks me breakfast and loves me. Shocking isn’t it? I am aware.

I’m so bloody young and I’m already yearning for love. Fucking disgraceful. Where did it go wrong? Too much TV.

My biological imperative guides me to ejaculate and evacuate but even if I do that, why can’t I have both worlds?

When will the Lord give me a sexually depraved jezabel with a hint of elegance who will die for me and is mentally ill but also a good partner lacking toxic traits? Yeah, I know. Stupid.

A man can dream. Even if he does not sleep. Ever.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted (Hypocritical) Fantasy

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I say I want to live in a world where peace and equality are important values and everyone is free to live life their own way.

Fantasy.

I want to live in a world where only the strong survive and anyone who stands in my way is snuffed out and suffocated.

Fantasy.

I say I want society to be less materialistic and that people should be showing more humility.

Fantasy.

I want to buy fancy suits, expensive cars and blow cigar smoke in poor people’s face.

Fantasy.

I say I want monogamy to make a comeback and that we should all settle down with a nice traditional housewife and spawn twenty five kids.

Fantasy.

I want to creampie liberal art hoe sluts in a dirty alley and never call them back.

Fantasy.

I say criminals and mafiosos are scumbags and shouldn’t be idolized.

Fantasy.

I want to shoot people dead like Tony.

Fantasy.

No one man should ever have all that power and I will never ever let you live this down.

Still Dreaming

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I want to lay down under a warm summer sun while gazing at the clouds, a joint in one hand and a book in the other. Complimented by loud 80s music (preferably Phil Collins), a delicate female lover by my side and flocks of birds flying over my head.

I want a secluded wooden cabin where I can quietly sip my pea protein shake and discuss Nietzsches philosophy with a hazel haired beauty that has a penchant for getting lovingly choked.

I want children to reject consumerism and embrace physical culture. I want my little brothers to hunt more snails instead of playing FIFA. I want my cousins to do pull ups, not eat soy and learn some Muay Thai.

I want society to truly allow people to be themselves instead of saying it’s okay and then vilifying them at the first sign of trouble.

I want governments to not be ran by malicious reptilians who assassinate critics and help old creeps kidnap children.

I want to be able to sleep at night.

I want to make it past 21.

Dreaming.

3:30 AM.

Still dreaming.

Forever dreaming.

Californication

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It seems like no matter where I go, I can’t escape this huge cloud of Hollywood bullshit that is chasing us all into oblivion. You know what I’m talking about.

That fake and shallow California image rich Hebrews and hipster schmucks like to sell us. The coolest place on earth. The wannabe moral compass of America that is ironically the most decadent place since Sodom and Gomorrah. You see it on TV as a kid, you hear about it in your music and travel aficionados just won’t shut the fuck up about how great it is.

I know they have legal weed, amazing sunsets, sexually loose women and fancy expensive Gyms.. but is the City of Angels really worth all the hype?

Seems like anyone who lives there for a decent chunk of time eventually grows disillusioned with the place. They get tired of the political chaos, the crime is too much for them to handle, the broads with fake tits get old and become too toxic for anyone looking to settle. Even Venice Beach is no longer any fun, it’s just another industry meme.

Yet even after understanding all that, I just can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on this weird little planet known as California (or Mexico Lite, your pick).

I want to experience the hypocrisy, the awesome cinematic view, the horrible heat, the nightlife, the blowjobs in the In-N-Out parking lot, the homeless people and even the gangbangers!

L.A. is my love and hate. I lust for it. But I also feel nauseated when I hear it calling out for me. It represents everything I yearn for yet utterly despise.

AND I HAVEN’T EVEN BEEN THERE YET!

West Hollywood brunettes, keep on waiting for me.