What happens when I encounter Sleeping Beauty on a very rainy Wednesday afternoon
by Christos Polydorou
for another one hundred years,
because if you wake up you’ll be in tears…
as the prince is actually a dominating bear with too much body hair,
with leather, dildos, and connected hoops hanging in his closet,
and a whip for what he calls ‘your booty’,
so stay asleep Sleeping Beauty
because soon your face will be on Tinder,
and it will then be late to hinder
the cataclysmic cynicism, the utter loss of hope,
all, burnt to a cinder,
because the prince is actually a pig in a Gucci suit.
Ignore the desire to leap,
Your duty is now to snooze,
to stay on cloud nine,
floating among the stars in a catsuit,
dreaming of a man actually worth your time.
You are so beautiful,
and your hair.
Would you mind,
if I brushed your hair?