This has to be the last closest thing to the last closest transmission I will make in this bathroom or any other. So a Final Transmission. That’s key. That’s ultimate. The Ultimate Powder. Luxury like no other I accept as perfect. I accept you as perfect, Lucky Mirror. My deep personal last closest friend. Mirror Friend. Friend Mirror. Cold searing reflection. I want sleep. I want you. I want you smooth. Mercury. Glass. Unknowing. But wanting. I want to push you beyond. Embrace you. Until you die.
Those very large ravens every morning before Homeroom. Before The Bell. They observe our oranges. The ones not caught in the machine. Those ones are frozen there. Rotting. In time. Not like our Hearts. Our Hearts are pumping. We feel that pump in our palms, sometimes both palms against the cold orange rind of our oranges. Just 25 cents each. Machine-dropped out of the Machine. Then into our hot palms in the morning. The Punks call us Orange Fags. Orange Wasties. For lack of Imagination in the morning, noon and maybe the night.
We barely glance at them but shift slightly across gorgeous lean legs smooth out any potential creases on our vintage or handsewn finery look at each other and barely blush while cranking up our panasonic cassette with the stickers all over it. Fine stickers.
We never really eat the oranges. We just clutch them to feel our pulse against their machine cold rinds. They end up in the Quad trashcans before The Bell. Mascara scrawled on their bright orange rinds. Sometimes key lyrics from our favorite songs. It’s all aesthetic. All of it.
The Punks know this. It’s our share’d secret. Hence the aggression.
We’re all fighting against style.
Only we prefer to do it stylishly. Extravagantly. Sexually.
We have no adequate enemies. Just name callers. The oranges suit us.
The purple and dark plum bruises on our necks suit us. They number in the hundreds now. And they number in the thousands on every girl’s neck in our class. And the sound from our worn cassette immerses us. And is so cool.
The ravens in the morning are the only ones confused by any of this.
Not that we care.
https://m.soundcloud.com/steppin_into_the_house/lets-dance-synthpop-new-wave-industrial-electronic-mix