I want you to be like cracks in the wall
Splitting, terrifying, acknowledgments of age.
But full of character.
The kind of wrecked up building
Hipsters want to take photos of.
I want you to be a condemned factory
In some rundown New Jersey Industrial district.
I need you like the worn lines on some film reel.
Getting in the way of the best parts.
You could be a dress completely destroyed by cigarette burns
Or the stains on an important document.
You could be my anti-Christ to perfection.
And I’d crucify you with the best intention.
You’re like a car with old bullet holes,
Or that rug everybody is afraid to touch.
In the end you’re like some decrepit ruin of a vast civilization.
Old and broken.
But eternally majestic in my perception.