I’m going to take you to a murky lake and rub you against a washboard with a roughness you’ve known longer than me. I’m going to feverishly scrub you clean.
I’m going to paint you layers of yellow, then white, then pink, then red, then black, then white again. I’ll use turpentine to scrape off your layers and leave you as a piece of bare, dead wood to warp in the moisture of days.
I’m going to sculpt you with a vulgar tool. I’m going to carve deep grooves into you; litter your surface with sharp reliefs; make you a map of valleys and peaks.
I’m going to polish you until you shine like the slippery, metal sphere you are. I’m going to take a blowtorch to you and tarnish your obnoxious shine until you’re rustic.
I’m going to stare at you with no understanding, and I will watch you with a great knowing.
I’m going to hate and love you, simultaneously. I’m going to sustain you and denounce you. I’m going to beat you to a bloody pulp, and I’m going to nurture you in a fetal embrace.
I’ll throw whisky on you in a dark place, and after that, blow smoke in your face.
I’m going to appease you, ego. And I will once again reject you.
Oh oh oh, the things I will do with you!