I walked the streets of the town on Friday night, looking at my reflection in the shop windows. I spotted him staring at me. He engaged me with his velvet voice. Such was my comfort we went to the pub for a drink and sat engrossed in conversation for hours. As we entered my luxury flat, his arm brushed mine erotically and I was eager with anticipation. We entered the bedroom where he gently stroked my eager body. Sadly I climbed into my bed alone knowing that I would never recover from this affliction of mine which they call schitzophrenia.
(c) Mike Hill