This pastel ocean going along,
to erase me,
to erase my comfortability of one room with country music.
While I was awake last night with a pale hangover,
i felt connected,
I felt my roots.
I knew I am going to get this ocean today, i knew homelessness always comes with a price…
The indigo is dissolving, the concentration is breaking,
i write…I write…I write…
Sometimes it gets weird, sometimes it takes the strength of suicides to put some words on paper…
I wish I had the switch of destruction, i wish I could know the vacancy of sleeps…
My walk is disappearing, all the walks are disappearing…
It’s treacherous when you know you have that madness,
like winds that touched you beating the probability of existence.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Josef Sudek.

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