breaking glass-ceilings

i dont wanna be fit, dont wanna pay starbucks with my sweatty cash, i don't wanna fit the screens, or cheerlead a football team. i dont want skinny pants, or make up. i dont want a photoshop-edition in my moments, dont want mickeytoasts in the morning, or a victoriasecret's babydolls at night... i dont wanna "sleep beautifully", i just want to sleep tight. and wake up when i want, without any facades to keep up, with the constitutionally-right-assured-all-messed-up-hair as all of my buddy friends know it pretty well. because i trully don't care about the plumbing...

i want something real. something human.

i'd rather have a face where i can find veracity, presence, motion... i don't want a mark in his/hers forhead, i'd better have a Furby.

i want an inquisitive, playfull mind, someone who listens and doubts all the great truths stabilished over our reasons. someone for whom philosofical discussions are foreplay. someone who IS, without others consent, and above all the non-thinking-heads & dead bodies.

i dont wanna feel like i have to know something about what they call "reality". tha new hit... the new chick, up on Mtv. i dont wanna be something else,

i want something different...

i want a true thing that doesn't fade with the flashes.