Bones are entwined with the series of complete bareness.
I may look like i have a lot to scratch on,
but the rainy nights and a desire to uproot the lust of an eye
really gave me my landscape of exploration in shadowed intercourse.
The fine legs and the lonesome highway,
the headlight serenity
and the tobacco air…
If i lack in continuity then i dream in absence,
the dream of pain in formations.
Where does this stop?
Where do I sleep and only wake up in wet lips?
Where does this magnolia blossom and i see it in complete selflessness?
The drunk swinger or the slow hooker knows,
the faraway whistler or the gasoline bird knows.
I walk and i fuck and i find them in my blood.

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Photograph: DEMONFROGGIE