We are rather a colony of chaos…
It’s happening,
moments after moments after moments…
Between the teeth,
it smells like the burn of ancient wisdom.
Even with so many presences of chromatic experiences,
we are still not being able to recognize that chaos.
Think!
Think like you have no other resort other than thinking.
Break!
like it’s easy to adapt reformations.
The grey sky goes beyond this horizon like women sleep with naked ass…
And it’s a fight between an underdog and a glimmering inception,
a fight between a swaying immersion and a piercing redemption…
The monsoon is upon us and I am bearing a flood in this body.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Christiana Moore.

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