Green Intentions

I dreamed of you last night.


Naked, our warm bodies intertwined


Arms around each other, gripped tight.

Room pitch black like a person who went blind.




I nibbled your ear, touching your skin.


Caressing your naked body with my barely bearded chin.

My phone rang, disturbed the momentum.

Got up to check on it, fuck it was just my mum.



I went on with my business.


Went down, eating you up like a princess.


That doesn’t make sense, I said.


Let me continue, stop interrupting.




You pulled my hair I lost focus.

I got up again and held you by your hands.


Pinning you down like a wrestler tackling an enemy.


Restraining you from moving.




You screamed “rape!”


Then laughed afterwards.


Giving me the feeling of being called out and chased by the guards.




I never told you parts of my life before.


But here I am, opening up to you.


Like how you’re willing to let me open you up down under.


You moaned, you called my name.


It felt like I’m in Hollywood, people screaming my name. Wow, fame.




I hate poems that rhyme. Seriously.


It’s too common.


But come on, it’s what the people love.




Going back to the story.

A dream, you mean. Perhaps.


A dream where you told me you love me.


And how I felt overjoyed, blimey.




This is a free-speech, slam poetry type of writing.


But it’s an output I discovered to ease my depression.


By showing, portraying, this kind of expression.




I’m actually falling for you.


Note to myself: stop, she might catch it too.