mapped.

can not get over this image.

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i can hear him from my future.

my sudden obsession with yeah yeah yeah's hysteric.

the absolute mess of hazy candy floss filled glasses. 

full moons, beautiful views and that dirty mouth of yours.

a turquoise frigidaire, dark and twisted paintings.

this nostalgia is only a few hours old, it could only be a fantasy. 

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we lost faith.

we won't hide any longer. 

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a two day birthday party.

it might not come around. 

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something flickered at the edges of conscious perception.

a hay bale. 

a farm in the middle of the city.

the sound of the highway in the distant,

the very dimness of the lights.

rum and coke. 

a polaroid picture. (a memoir flouting in my handbag)

a one night adventure. 

something you can't recreate.

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these strange steps. trace us back.

strangely intrigued today.

a hippy mess with sweatpants on a dancefloor.

think your name is brennan/brenon/bronon.

couldn't really know.

thinking that you might be my adam. 

its sunday today, the search buttons aint working baby,

might not find you again. 

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in search of the divine.

Listen closely, closely to the floor
Emitting all its graces through the ṗores
You’d make a fine shrine in me
You’ll build a fine shrine in me

*** images by sylwia makris

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