My Diary

June shut the front door twice as she left for work; however I only got up once, although I did notice that my reflection in the mirror had a jackal head. I had to wait for an angel from the Old Testament to knock to collect her shoes (personally I always take my shoes off when I go outside) – as it turned out she never arrived and now I have to wait for a New Testament angel. I stood on a pile of children’s picture bricks (my right foot was on a shaggy lion’s mane and my left was on a marmoset climbing a block of flats) and watched other lines drawn across the naked body of the sky. I had to step down as a cloud shaped like a winged demon on a hay wagon drifted by; I put my pitchfork away and rummaged through a small bag full of long forgotten dreams.

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