I Have No Desire for "Perfection"

I have no desire for "perfection" I don't deal in terms as simple as that, what i revel in is the ravages of time on something or someone, the imperfections that tell the most sublime story...Where did that chip on your tooth come from? How did you get the scar on your chin? These are questions that set my mind ablaze with desire and wonder!!! 

I can stare at peeling paint on a wall for hours tracing the images the cracks make, imagining why someone chose these colors...who or what they reminded them of...and how long it took for time to strip it all away revealing layer and layers of memory underneath...

I live for the smell of dust and the coppery taste of rusted metal....My hands twitch with the feel of every bump and crack....i shiver with delight over well worn velvets and torn leathers....an attic is my wonderland, a basement like a heaven of sorts.....

Peoples bodies tell a story...every laugh and every smile...tears of pain and joy slashed across a face by lines and wrinkles....every childhood trauma, every accident and bike ride mishap...The ravages of teen angst and bullying...self torture and mutilations or ink scratched on the skin as self expression....bags under the eyes from a life lived in the night..extra pounds from enjoying food or bones pushing through skin.....nails chewed to the quick and hair shorn to the scalp or grown to the floor....every fleck and freckle...every mole and pimple a story....THIS is what excites me..... These stories the body tells...not white washed...not covered in creams and stretched beyond recognition....but this simple truth that life tells...written in braille on our skin.....waiting to be read....

Me??? I have no desire for "perfection" its silly really and its simply not interesting to me at all....

XOXO