Britney's Nightmares

[As a real popstar poet, Britney Spears certainly doesn't need me to write a bizarre confessional poem on her behalf. But here's one anyway]



Last night I dreamt of Debbie Gibson again
Like a warning from out of the blue.
"All glory is fleeting," she said with a snarl
Then beat me to death with a shoe.
In another recurring nightmare,
I'm back on the Mickey Mouse Club.
Christina and Justin dance naked with Donald
While I'm giving Goofy a back rub.

I can't explain these horrible dreams
Maybe I've been watching too much telly:
Gruesome movies like The Evil Dead,
Hellraiser and From Justin to Kelly.
My husband provides neither comfort nor joy,
He only loves beer, pot and poker night.
Apart from his skill at sporting crap facial hair
He's as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike.

Perhaps the dreams are trying to tell me
Don't waste your life with this jerk.
Send him on his way with a tiny lump sum
And get yo' big ass back to work.
So I must reclaim my own destiny
Propel myself into the light.
Conquer the demons that trouble my sleep
And drop Kevin from a very great height.