Literature
[01.]
it used to be, i couldn’t ever sleep through the entire night. ever. now i dream the weirdest shit. in my dreams, i’m a painter; weird underground artsy stuff. no real studio, stolen brushes and canvases. old wall paint. and like, i bring in these epileptic guys. i strip them naked and douse them in different paints. i flash bright lights in their eyes and let them twitch and seizure on these huge canvases. this is fucking ART, man. (she would be so proud, my mum…) and sometimes, sometimes these epileptic guys die. not a problem; i leave them in alleys behind strip clubs so it looks like some weird sex thing. in my dreams, i never get caught. i am a total fucking abomination. (says my father in between sips of jack daniels, during commercial breaks.)