dull as dishwater

dreamt last night
I was in Rufus Wainwright's fabulous loft
a man with a flair for the eccentric
taken by the uniquely self-designed chandeliers
boldly hanging from the ceiling
begging to be oggled
started to feel dull as dishwater
in my aspirations to a stade aesthetic
how do I open the door
to the fabulous each night
crash the virtual parties
my unconscious is dying to crash
how many of those parties have I visited
that will forever remain a mystery

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