As the shivering night kicked it’s blue legs on this soft soils of trivialities,
I kept myself busy with drinks and slow music and women’s legs and some repeated words.
If a whirlpool of insane wind come and take away this time of utter stupidity…
Only those will survive who know how to be the greatest entertainment for themselves.
Survive.
Survival of ideas, survival of emotions, survival of chilled beers, survival of a world dancing on the waves of celluloids.
This thing that I kept pouring like a obsessed fisherman; came from the western region…from the mountains…
I am high on a vertically blessed liquor of poetic bubbles.
All I have ever wanted is to never see a delirious daylight again…
give me nights; always.
Hangovers and the feeling of claustrophobia while shitting in a white slab of stone…
life is too short for that kind of stuff.
Drapes are closed… doors are locked like beautiful graves… there’s sheets on bed…and perhaps there’s a woman on that too…
okay let the platoons come…I have had enough for tonight.

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Photograph: Jerry Uelsmann.