The realm of blackboard trees…
Its transitional smell and waves of entrapment.
I have lost my words,
i have slit myself with verses.
The leaping of vulnerability,
the bottom of continuity…
My days tell me to grow a spine in rusty terrains of powdered bones…
and the nights glow in a wet flash of baked flesh.
I am searching for the roots to play with the damn
and the dam is broken,
the destruction blossoms…
I am wrapped in the desire of being alone in somebody else’s seamless body.
My choices have made me to live a dare…
The aftermath must play a symphony when there will be not be a love, a cigerette, a ether beach or a feeling to tear me apart.

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Photograph: Alex Axon