European Holiday

Crossing the pond and feeling fond of what awaits, I’m smiling stepping through the immigration gates. Mind blown and pondering of the enticing unknown that’s wandering through these European burrows, I’m thorough in exchanging dollars to euros. Trying not to assume of what I might consume while my imagination glitches and tongue twitches thinking of all the beautiful bitches {*Mhmmm*} sights… architecture, city lights, culinary arts and history once heard in lectures during university. These are magnificent cities, once kingdoms built by religious bigotry, still beautiful and flourishing but now filled by “heretics,” street philosophy, sex for commission and the occasional religious oppression. Walking through valleys of dickless statues, examining bones in catacombs and feeling the malice of the queen’s guards in front of her palace. I raise my cup of fermented raisins and boast to propose a toast to my mates. Through my smile I say, “Comrades, to London, Rome, Paris, or wherever we may stay, let us enjoy this European Holiday.”

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