You sometimes like things that are obscene and sexual and megaphone their voice into your skull;
the cacophony covers and lets rest your thoughts.
You like this control sometimes.
You choose your shoes like you choose your purpose in life;
the distance touched by them is greater than or equal to your height.
Eventually they are equal though.
You feel motivated by creating a Dream House for your thoughts to try on clothes and feel pretty;
a few (sometimes all) of these thoughts drive away in a Dream Corvette
that combusts when it reaches speeds higher than 205 miles per hour.