Ashtrays and Bedsheets Wrapped Around My Feet as the Day Begins

Sunday morning.

Dull light seeps through the cracks in the doors, the gaps in the curtains, the cat door left ajar by fat little Missy, after she has struggled through to the light, to the garden, to the nasty cat next door. She'd just been wrapped around my feet, as I checked on-line, keeping them warm. Now I only feel a chill where she has been. She's not a very good boyfriend replacement, but all I have. I wish she'd come back. He, he. Pathetic. I love the rough feel of her tongue on my skin. Short of putting cat food on my feet...

I love the feel of the Greek boyfriend's tongue on my feet. Perhaps, I could wrap them up like dolmades? He's too busy popping prescription pills and having his stomach pumped - ah Greeks, they are fond of the grand gesture - to feel the allure of rice and vine leaves. Good thing I've never committed.

Perhaps, I'll have a joint? Is (nearly) 7am too early to have a joint? A bong is too harsh for the fine delicacy of the crumbling evening light. Too twenty year old. Too much! Don't you just love the way that the conservative political dick heads are now starting with their demonisation of marijuana? The biggest industry in the world. They had a go at abortion, but failed thus far. Idiots! But, I guess we already knew that.

I've got the whole day to play. My cock jumps at the thought. Ah, so you are still with me. Good to know. Gotta love Sundays!

Perhaps, I'll just settle for more coffee? Don't you just love the smell of freshly ground coffee beans in the morning?

The quiet chill of being alone wraps around me and makes me feel like the only living point in reality. Me and you. The meaning of life.