Foam

There were plastic girls in my city. Plastic hair, legs, bodies, lips and eyes. I hate plastic. Especially the smell when you are fucking and you smell it burning up, melting and bubbling.
And then again. A plastic smile on the street, a plastic hand shaking another one. Every ounce of body made of consuming prosthesis. It's a dark fantasy. The lady from my street, who used to shout at her drunk husband used to take out her teeth. Now that's a fun image. Now I dream of ordering china food, I dream of an awesome house and a girl with big fake tits.
But then again it's cold out here, I cower myself with my plastic film, make myself comfortable at the park bench, look up at the trees. Oh, how I hate the smell of plastic.