susurra

There are tones and there are timbres in a whisper, that are hardly heard. They’re reminiscent of cicadas, or indigestion. They’re the ringing in your ears, trains on tracks, hands on doorknobs, lips on lips. We live our lives loudly, with constant distractions, anticipations and anxieties. I am shaken awake by sirens and discordant moans …

fucking tactile

There are no rules, no obligations. All we have are choices and feelings, whispers and the inevitable moon looking at us through open windows. Work is hilarious, it chimes in my ear sweet nothings regarding deadlines and comps that must be sent to Doctor's. I'm lazy, but I manage. I wear sandals because the Apocalypse …

gypsies

this is feral love this is sweet love the kind of love that bites leaves traces of deep/ this is honest love painful love innocent love whore love animal love black onyx eyes turned white kind of love/ rooftop love where you on your knees suck the breath, where the ocean of my cunt comes …

this is ancient

let’s be bold a grand scale no secrets,  just you just me no frightened executions or broken hands just a soft and tattered love the kind that walks on heels/ don’t pick the low hanging fruit/ the bruised fruit don’t make it easy/ climb/ get dirty/ I’m not for cowards