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Dreams. I used to have them prior to the nightmares started out. I imagined nice guys, love...normalcy. Things like reading the Weekend paper in bed with my fan. But who needs dreams whenever your reality is filled up with a string of faceless, dominating men in even? Men who load up solid bulges and are just too pleased to satisfy your intimate yearnings. Me, that's who. Then he strolled through the door and distributed to me, a complete stranger, his intimate dream of love. Damn him for verbalizing every single depth of the desire I buried long ago. And today I have no idea how I'm going to live without that desire - or him.
