Freedom of woman

She lies arse up on a sage silk bed
Whilst tiny penis shaped characters dance beneath her
Their pubes are courgette spaghetti
That flutter whenever they hear the chimes of Jaffa cakes
Blue velvet clouds surround her
To the left is a window pane
Floating in mere nothingness
It has long drawn curtains that twitch in the open breeze
The window is closed
Yet it floats unaccompanied by any other formation of humanitarianism
Unrestrained by the tiny dancing penis men
She breaths deep and releases a tremendous fart
Her pink puff makes them scatter
They audibly exhale their disbelief at such a power play
Silly little penis men