Jip Joint arm candy. She claimed to be the most beautiful girl she knew. She was. I'm pretty sure I was her only friend. In fact, she was ugly. Not in the vain sense that Pro-Active zit cream or Megan Fox's thumbs are, but ugly like a heroin addiction.
She had a curious way about her. She liked the way people would gawk at her tattoo of Yosemite Sam on her neck with the tiny werds "Keep on truckin." emblazoned underneath it. She would often leave herself unshaven in the armpit area in hopes that someone would notice. I enjoyed her company. She was an eclectic shit show of hot messedness.
I always asked myself why I'd fancied such a train wreck of a creation, among other things I'd questioned about my interests. You see dear friends, there is no real answer. We fall for crazy sometimes. It builds character. It makes us the people we are. Once in awhile it's ok to let that little psychopath of yours come outside and play on the merry-go-round. He needs it and you need it. He gets sick, dizzy and pukes. He helps to remind you that you are not perfect and neither is the world around you. Your dysfunction is that good shit! Only when we are able to admit this, do we fully understand that some things are not good for us.
She used to talk dirty to me. She had a shit stained voice box. Under her growl and cigarette laden rasp, she would mumble scary phrases like, "Let's make pubic hair popsicles." I would grin and try to imagine she wasn't serious. She had a great sick and twisted sense of self. I envied her for that. She smelled though. Her musk was of patchouli, dirty pussy and Febreeze. Her scent would overtake any environment without superb ventilation. I wafted in her scent and was blinded by my own lust for the mundane. She made me erect.
As far back as I can remember, I have been intrigued by oddities. My view of the werld has always been skewed. I make believe that maybe this place was created for me to enjoy myself. I take time to laugh and smile. I like to be generally amazed by my surroundings and it's inhabitants. I know that with all of the quote unquote responsibilities that we all face everyday, I need to have a favorable disposition. It aids in my plight. I can lead you as well if you so choose.
We danced without music. One ugly masterpiece on a moonlight drive. Her reverse mohawk glistened in the night air. She called to me from the pier. She was hungry for attention. I her poet answered. We stumbled upon each other. Not for lack of companionship but because we both knew, something felt right. I could see her breath as she exhaled her Djarum clove. At that moment, bliss. I knew it was the best thing that would ever happen to me.
She died of an overdose shortly after. Heroin became her new rhyme. I was all out of werds. She found solace in a dirty spoon and a shared rig. I acted like it didn't hurt to know that a nameless smack head kicked the bucket. Her name was Joy. Joy was ugly and I thought she was beautiful too. Werd.