love letter to freaks and fags

(with lines from Periphery by Fiona apple)

Go to the periphery,
The obscured, the absurd,
The underwater, the unheard.
In God's peripheral, there are
Dykes who spike their morning coffee,
Agoraphobic Adderal addicts, the naked and baked.
The observers see the perverts pissing on the perfect,
Pissing off the person who gives them a purpose.
Why create a freak if you mock their uniqueness?
Peripherally, you can see
The quips of bitches with pierced nipples and clits,
The sluts with big tits and hairy armpits,
With a nose that protrudes and distracts from her boobs,
Cast off, sent to the periphery.
Cropped out of the photographs,
Half of the figure is enough.
Fistfuls of pharmaceuticals, coughing up puffs of smoke.
You’ll go to the periphery,
You’ll find those who love the snow and wear
Headphones to shovel it, Who rouse the crowds
Of men in torn robes and women in towels.
They’re all renowned for their loudness,
For saying fuck the focality, fuck the
Penthouses and towers, fuck people who remember to shower.
The periphery is home for
Boys who don't floss and look ordinary enough
To fool the fools into ignoring him,
So he can get back to whoring and adoring
And arousing, snorting powder,
Throwing money down for a pounding.
They would spend hours looking for food and spending
Countless dollars on liquor, downing the vodka now and saving
The snacks for later.
They break into houses and kick the doors down,
Those peripheral idiots,
They throw good parties there.