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It is said, that when one wakes up in the morning, the first thought to come always means how his day will go.
Every morning I think of my broken toilet cistern: I dunno if it's true, but I've read it's an omen of money.
Waking up is a difficult process, looks more like a battle,
which is occasionally won by the neighbours, screaming at you to turn off the alarm-clock.
Sucks to be me, right?
And like all this *** isn't enough for me, every morning in my head I see you.
I'm sure it's not because of your picture I embroidered on the back of the pillowcase:
I'm stuck with you in my head and can't get you out of there, like a burnt and old plug.
It's not that I'm complaining, not at all; I once had my left ear nipped at the door hinge
and then I really had some complains!
But still I don't know why, why I keep thinking of you and why I pierced my fingers with the pillowcase.
You are... strange. I know you for such a long time, yet still you are a mistery to me.
You're like the Holy Bible - thick and with many obvious messages, but also containing hidden secrets.
The emotions, that connected us were at first friendly, but now they're something more.
I know you feel for me like for a guinea pig, locked up in the cupboard beneath the oven,
griefly eating nuts. But I feel you're much more than a housewife to me. You are more than nice.
My auntie's best friend is nice - she always gives me coconut sweets, but you... Mysterious, beautiful and inaccessible, like the wife of
that videogame store guy... You managed to melt down the cold ice around my heart and to bring a global warming in my pants.
Now I'm not only confused, but my blood corpuscles are drowning in a float of glacier water. And the most disturbing fact is that this happens
to me for the second time. But repetition makes study, and study makes boredom, that's why I repeat, if you haven't got my point 'till now.
Even if you did, women like the annoying flattening repetitions.
I love you more than gofretti. You are more perfect than sunrise in a very cloudy morning and stromger than a hungry 30-year old Rhyno.
At least you won't make me carry the bags from the market. Pitty things between us never managed.
I'm sorry, but you're like the last ticket to a Rolling Stones concert: I can't afford missing you.