No. This is how it is supposed to go: Chipped tiles, scraped knees, tucked under your chins. strung out, drawn out, worn out. Red eyes, blue eyes. Your eyes. They're there, but the rest aint'. This isn't how it's supposed to be.
Knotted dirty hair, pull her into you. She's dirty. It makes her so clean.
Flourescent light over you, perfect messes.
This is how it's supposed to be---not sterile, not christian, not actually like your mother and father would want to see you----but you. Ragged and right. Take it all off, baby. You're it. You're so it.
God, I'm done. You'll never see me, chipped tiles, scraped knees, quiet and smiling.
So, we just won't know.
But yeahhh okay oh well. You're so it anyways.
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