I am disgusting, so please donít try and make me into something beautiful. I can remember smoke rising from sweat soaked sheets. I can remember soft curly hair twisting between my fingers. I donít try to be ugly. But the world is changing and slowing down; the world is melting like an ice cube between her legs, and she is beautiful.
Soon we will all understand whatís on the inside.
I am a river and your judgment is a rotten fish, floating down stream, toward the open ocean. Or maybe I am the fish and you are the river. Or maybe the river is all dried up and the fish are dead.
In that case I am an old man, turning each fish over and shaking with hunger, shooing away the flies and rats. In that case I am starving and rotten fish is better then dirt and steam, cooked together over ex-girlfriends and best sellers.
Luckily, soon all of us will burst, water will flow from our finger tips, and plants will grow when we walk side by side. No more words can pass between us; I am covered in paint, my brain a melting ice cube between her legs. So please donít think for one second that I can change the world.