Dirty Elegance

The dirt on an elegant woman’s arms. Look at it. Do you know what that looks like? It looks like a real flea circus with real fleas in it. Not one with motors operating the trapeze. REAL fleas, friends - doing real tricks. It’s also like the trick where your uncle grabs your nose. Placing his thumb between his index and middle fingers showing you the underside of his thumb and claiming that he has your thumb in his hand. Except this time he has it. This time he actually pulled your nose from your face and is holding it in his hands. No more charade, just the real deal that you always ached to believe in. Come here you lovely queen, without washing up. Let me touch the dark spots, let me feel the sand in your hair. Walk on these flower petals that are disingenuously thrown on the ground before you on your way to the cigarette shop. It only makes your aura more holy, more saturated. I liked the way your hands felt last night. In the same manner that you yourself like them. The scars on your cheek; all for glory. The scars on your cheek; all for glory.