ClickI've learned that with a good camera and the right angle,you can make anythinggorgeousmeaningfulcomplex, orsimpleor uglybut in a way that is pleasing to the eye,something that will make a person stopfor a second(that's all you really get)I've learned that if you spend enough time trying to assign meaning to something,it'll take it on,the way a picture can become an anarchist's cry,debasing and demoting our shitty, shallow human emotions(or something like that)I've learned to keep my pictures of you locked in drawers,because I'm tired of assigning meaning to the way you spit and scowl in my directionI've tried until my tongue twisted and my fingers gnarled,and it just isn't working,and I don't think it ever will
all work and no playwho knows what dangers come?killing hour's gonewho is the wicked witch?gorillas bathe in the dusttrees sway left to rightheart beats tick tock tickour work is never doneand we're all hypocrites
house ofgod, i am so flawedand you are perfectso much that i can'tbe quiet unlessyou are being loudand i love that youdo what you do withpassion and promiseyou've been awake forso long like four orfive days, and yourhipbones are juttingout at all anglesyour skin paper thinwhen i touch you andget some sleep, i saybut you never dobecause you love lifeand you don't want tomiss a second ofit by laying downand closing your eyesfor just a whileplease lay down with mei think success isa black business suitwith four buttons anda large salarybut to you, it's justhappiness and goodfriends. i wish i couldbe one to you, but.some things never end.
hypocrisies(let's assume they're all intentional)i would like to write a song in french, and someday,get the hell out of this town like it's burning down.but i don't think it'll happen outside of my dreams.i am rooted to the ground.