2020.07.14.
Dialogue between lovers
Oh well, here we go again. It happens so easily.We are locked in loneliness in the pub's toilet.
I have a feeling that you're thinking that there'll be romance here.
But there will not be rows and crying and loud screams here.
My friend, when you're sober you're cute and sweet and neat
But to think that after three-four beers yeah, then you change attitude.
And from being quiet and withdrawn mild
You go to roaring: I'm beautiful, free and wild.
I defend your freedom but do you realize the hypocrisy
It means to be alcohol-based free
Don't think I don't hear your undercover taunt.
With fucking gorgeous language and velvet tongue in front of your critique.
But drop the insinuations and if there's something you want
Yes dear, if you've got something on your mind just speak up.
No, don't say anything! I'll guess! Yes, now I think I know.
You whine because you don't have my full attention.
Oh, you think I'm jealous? Let us express it mildly.
Since you got here to Nefertiti you've been flirting wildly.
Laughed shrilly and fooled around as if you were fifteen years
And tried to tighten the push-up a step further than possible.
A moment ago you were making Killing jokes with a broiler kid
And giggled like a brat to his plump laugh.
Oh well, thank fuck I'm talking to other men
When you say: I'll go buy som beers. I'll be gone for an hour, and then
I find you i the bar with a Barbie-plagiary
Big-eyed-breasted blonde with an IQ of a tin soldier.
So don't come to me to talk shit about hypocrisy
First take a look in the mirror you Lars Demian-wannabe.
You think that I'm kissing ass? Yes, it's probably sometimes true.
I pretend to like our long walks hand in hand
I laugh at you pops jokes, I sing to your mother
And pretend to be be fascinated by your IT-knowledgeable younger brother.
I carry you when you get too drunk to walk on your own
When I'd rather dump you the closest gutter.
Fuck all the times I've pleased you and cursed silently
When you with stubble and hangover-sweaty begged for a kiss.
Fuck when you say:
You'd be sexy as a blond.
Your smoke poisoned breath, your damned morning wood.
Fuck having to provide for you when you've drunk yourself broke
Fuck your dirty underwear and your socks' stench.
Oh well, what do you think I think of your company during your fourteen days period?
What do you think I think of your smoker's cough and your damn impotency?
Your eternal nagging about tinnitus? Your fear of becoming deaf?
Or spooning with you and your Godzilla ass?
Your bumpy thighs! Your fuzzy hair! Your hanging tits! Your beard!
To discuss with you is like talking to a wall.
Now you're silently looking down to the floor. You got tears in the corner of your eye.
A guard tears up the door and yells: 'We're closed.
Fucking leave already!'
I hear you sigh as we leave. You sniffle some.
But when we stop in our staircase you suddenly grab my hand.
I look at you. I look at you. I wake up and I remember.
Despite all harsh words you're the most beautiful there is.
And we hurry up the stairs and sleep with each other.
And one and two and three see how all discourse disappeared.
Then there's a bit more crying and sorry! Sorry! Sorry!
Then we'll take a bubble bath with live candles and classical music afterwards.
Then we'll swear to be friends at a blood red sunrise.
At least until we go out together next time.