I was still under the sheet with the smell of last night’s beer drunk sleep all over me.
Most of the times it has been difficult for me to find beauty in consistency and involvements.
Life is better with innumerable naked women in your dreams and a hell of a hard-on to go by all the days and all the nights.
Rolled up foreskin and the sensations of dry clothes against it… heaven served in shape of phallic obsession.
Sounds of people… breakfast eating people, egg people, shoelace people, movie theater people, burning people, dying people,
mistaken people,
I can hear all of them from downstairs…all of them and all the craziest animals of free madhouses.
Loneliness has been my sedation,
blank faces, empty rooms…I live miles away from those.
As I switched over to the other side of this black bowl…I saw a face, shadowed from rowdy hairs,
her lips are joined like ceramic tiles and she is uncovered at her breasts…
That was the best bloody image.
A piece of human species was there to save me from humanity.
I tried to sleep like her…and I failed and failed but succeeded in the horizon.

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Photograph: Imogene Cunningham.