Then there is love.
The real kind, the one where you understand each other with a glance. Love that doesn’t need to ask, the one that doesn’t require words.
Even if you're pissed off, and you're just pissed off. And there's nothing to explain: you woke up like this. What's there to say?
Sometimes the shit just suffocates you.
Maybe you just have your "things" (we men have them too), or it hurts there, always there.
You're angry, screw the World. You're not twenty anymore, and you've stopped wanting to change the World. Now you'd be content if, just for five minutes, your ass didn't hurt from the kicks.
Talking? What's the point of talking?
A blowjob would be enough.
A crude, ignorant, nasty one. That scratches your teeth.
Quick. Sneaky, under a table. With skinned knees. Without virtuosity, without caresses, straight, annihilating, obtuse. One of those, after which you don't need to think.
Dirty.
That only an idiot would think of cleaning up.
But how can you ask for it? You'd have to talk, explain…
So you blast something like "See Nothing, Hear Nothing, Say Nothing" by Discharge in your face.
Crude, dirty, ignorant, nasty music. That scratches your teeth.
Without solos, without virtuosity, without caresses. Fast, annihilating, obtuse. That shakes you, that screams, that fills the room. That you don't need to think about.
That dirties you and there's nothing to clean up.
"FREE SPEECH, FREE SPEECH FOR THE DUMB! FREE SPEECH FOR THE DUUUMB!!"
Like that! So, at least for five minutes, your ass stops hurting from the kicks.
And okay, but let's not talk bullshit: it’s not the same thing!
Thankfully there is love, the real kind. The one that doesn’t need words.
The one that you don’t need to ask for.
Loading comments slowly
