Ah, LOVE

Your skin is ragged and clumpy, but I run my fingers along your arm anyway. I can't ignore the tingles surging up my fingertips if it's from delicious disgust or desire I'm not sure. I love the unsmoothness, my fingers bumping up and down until a wet patch catches my finger, the texture is of unwashed cloth, sticky and oily. I hover in this chunky spot, caressing it softly. I wish to rub my whole body against this lovely texture but I fear smudging the puke colored patch of your protein shake texture skin. But I just continue to stroke the singular spot that has drawn my attention, oh how I wish you could speak. I wish I could smell your rank breath and breath in your musky body odor. I wish to trade insults and spiteful comments. But for now, I shall settle for sleeping a few feet away, where I can still able to smell your sharp heady scent (it is rather yummily repulsive), my dear dear landscape.

(If you can't tell, it's a wet landscape painting) -Ali :)