Ice tastes better from a glass but you can't bear to part with plastic. I cannot for the life of me understand why you keep your room so cold. The window open, the fan blowing. It's set on high and you sleep undisturbed, unmoved, and unflawed. Splashed across the face of your television is a glossy reality that is anything but. When will you learn that life viewed through aviator sun glasses is not a life at all?
Worn tight around your finger is that ring you bought at the market eight Sundays ago.
Impure metal, as I said, will stain you.
But that is you isn't it?

Constantly going for the gold, but getting only green.