Sleep is a funny thing.
It comes to you when you don’t need it at all
and when you need it the most.
Days were made to spend under sheets…
Nights are lovers…you can’t have fears of loosing…you can find enlightenment in whiskey…
you can see naked ass by your side…you can touch those with your hips…
and you can hear moaning, you can hear liquidity, you can hear the closing of your eyes.
Some strings of bloodstains and a madman’s exploration through waves.
I don’t find myself exclusive anymore…
A big evening of addiction, a woman to be touched in my commotions,
an agnostic musical tension and a good day’s sleep.
That’s it…you can’t be exclusive among those.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Bob Black.

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