The automobile sunset,
an open road through the land of courage,
poetry in a bar,
conversations of old lakes and older mountains,
the stained bed and the rearview tits.
We are bound in understanding and sometimes nothing is understandable other than the chaotic whiskey and the orgasmic spattering under the same sky of valour and voyage.
Awakening is a butterfly in flare,
you must consider that some of them will never survive the disintegration.
But sometimes while strolling or going to the work or making dinner or smoking pot or watching the fireworks or fucking the shit out of each other,
we stumble upon an invisible immortality,
a bohemian desire of uniformity.
The terrain dazzles in the light that shines even in disorder,
even in delirium,
even in death.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Peachy_soul.