I can’t think of a reason to wash my face tonight
who cares about zits when you’re toxifying your life
I feel just like a huge zit
but if I popped my puss on the wall
it’d be called brilliant modern art
abrasions forming all around me
sometimes I feel that
grease is so damn cheap
and this unrequited beauty
is going to get me killed
and if you’re pretty on the inside
who needs a reason to be beautiful?
who needs an army of anorexic magazines
to tell you they’re too good for you
you can scrub and scrub but I will never fade away
so don’t rub me
and don’t pick on me
just leave me alone to fester at will
and I will not be sanitized
and I will not go without a fight
I will not be covered up
I will not back my bags and hide
I’m not greasy I’m not a slime-ball like you
I’m not fronting and I’m not coming to a head
and I’m not coming for you
cos I’m not a zit, damnit, I’m an inner beauty mark
(and if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge I’d like to show you)
September 28, 2004
Brilliant Modern Art
at
10:02 AM
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.