Современная проза

"Listen, I don't want to know who you are, but if you could be anybody, who would you be?"

Jump back to us in the middle of the Nowhere. There are three persons in bout (to say nothing about drugs) and every of them got something to run from.
There is me who’s well-known as Daisy St. Patience. Also who’s well-known as Bubba-Joan. Also who’s well-known as Invisible Monster.
Accidently there is Alfa Romeo who’s well-known as Seth. Who’s well-known as Ellis. Who’s well-known as Manus.
And of course there is she – the queen supreme Brandy Alexander and her auburn hair, plumbago mouth, torpedo breasts, big ring-beaded hands and aubergine dreams eyes.
Give me despair.
Flash.
Give me weariness.
Flash.
Give me fear.
Flash.
The Princess Brandy Alexander swallows another couple of “Tiffany’s capsules” and says:
-Rip yourself open.
Throwing another medicine in her mouth she says:
-Sew yourself shut.
Behind my veil I laugh. Not because it’s funny. Simply laughter is the only sound I can make that people will understand.
Give me power.
Flash
Give me way out.
Flash.
We’re all another victims of the Brandy Alexander Witness Reincarnation Project.
We all running from something. Vaginoplasty. Aging. The future.
Stealing drugs, selling drugs, buying clothes, renting luxury cars, taking clothes back, ordering blender drinks.
This isn't what I'd call Real Life, not by a long shot.
But the problem is: “Do we really need Real Life?”
Give me runaway.
Flash.
Brandy swallows another couple of “Tiffany’s”.

P.S.: Thanks for attention, sir.