As partners in weirdness we have been friends, stolen each others images, re stolen images again and again, we have been shareholders in each others symbols, objects and ideas. Passing back and forth these things, switching sides, creating a bond, or a rope, or maybe a snake, a cup full of tiny snakes.
For Uncrustables we create ourselves, destroy ourselves, peel away the outer rind, only then to reveal a vulnerability that possibly would be too frightening to do each on our own. A fake self as a dead cop, dead polly pocket and dead dead girl, we lay our real heads upon our faked melon heads on top of real melons, all of our layers upon layers, hardly something to distinguish between the certain and the fabricated. Making all aspects real enough to create a real shadow beneath when the sun or artificial light hits us the right way, but not enough to burn us. Here we are safe, not able to bruise as much as a stone(d) fruit, but able to crack with the force of each other, or a truck at dawn or a mouse at night.
A snake without a face is a rope that holds us together, that rope don’t break. nicki minaj, watermelancholy, shittin on your (w)hole life 2012 aa cp sw ♥♥♥