Skin thing

Skin thing

I am this laboratory,
here with rum bottles and nicotine spoons,
Always mixing a conspiracy,
Some man ways or wits and melanin particles,
I'm building this skin for me.

This skin thing ain't easy!
It hums. like shrewd percussive.
Some kind of new music - and you ain't easy
It not like hers. Or his. Or theirs. You bawl ' Oh God Oh! And I chastise it!

I disown. Don't ask me how or when or why.
My skin malfunctions and I love it.

I rent it. Its use is no good.
It's fee is too wide. All this data overloads the spirit sometimes.
We're just the same and nothing more.
Excuse this skin's luminous habits.
Nobody gave me a manual when I got it.

I feeding it all the affection I could afford.
And I never ask you once to partake in this -
In my experiments. In my building. This black is private.
I building this skin for me.

I never mean when it offends you,
That I turn on my skin when I ready,
and let the wool grow woolly woolly

It blacking how it want and I never sorry for it.

All the time
I building this thing for me.