Dirty

I like to mess up beauty.  I like to get clean things dirty.  I like to create chaos where there would otherwise be sameness.  I like to muddy the perfect. 

I want to casually knock over rows and rows of carefully placed dominos.  I want to kiss a perfectly made-up cheek with sexy hot pink lipstik.  I want to f*ck wildly on a well-made bed.  I want to smudge newsprinty fingers on important work documents.  I want to spill coffee on white linen pants.  I want to use the black crayon to color not only outside of the lines, but on the floor and the walls too.  I want to fondle all of the sculputures and caress all of the paintings in the Louvre.  I want to chip my purple dishes with purpose as I wash them.  I want to splash in a mud puddle while wearing my wedding dress.  I want to scream while flying a silent redeye.

I want imperfection.  I want faults and flaws.  I want snags and defects.  I want disorder and commotion 

In imperfection, we find true beauty.  And in chaos, we find comfort.