Filthy Pov !!top!! Now

When I look at a beautiful woman, I don’t see her gloss. I see the sebum clogging her pores. I wonder if the shine on her cheek is highlighter or the natural grease of a long day. I wonder if her perfect ponytail is hiding a patch of psoriasis. And I love her more for it. Because the alternative—the plastic, airbrushed, sterile version of life—is a horror movie.

Give me the sticky floor of a dive bar. Give me the mystery stain on the bus seat. Give me the gummy residue on a library book cover. That’s texture. That’s history. filthy pov

You walk through the world trying to stay clean. You hold your breath near dumpsters. You use a paper towel to touch the gas pump. When I look at a beautiful woman, I don’t see her gloss