I’m going to jab this fist twelve inches into your face. I’m going to grow long fingernails to pluck a dissonant song. When I scratch my long nails through my hair pulling it from my eyes so I can watch you grimmace, I stop to see what oily shit is between the nail and skin. I am a spitter too. I’m rolling in the big amp; turn it on before plugging in. That loud noise is electricity at volume. With my long nails I pick the stacks of harmonies which have little melodies inside. Lines here and there are connected if you try. I want to watch you try. Hear the pretty I hear. I want to kiss you without touching skin, somewhere deep inside.