you puncture your own flesh and pour tequila in your wounds while waiting to hear from him ever so competitive, you dismantle yourself before he even attempts to break you
There’s something magical in the way music rearranges physics With the right song, you can exchange repressed reality for waking moments in a vivid and continuous dream. Purely unscientific, there’s a natural mystic, a trance-like toxin to sound The music is immense soul-altering, reality sculpting, time means nothing music grinds on its hands, sways in … Continue reading Song Series, Vol 1.
I long to empty my mind Untangle its contents like twisted silk thread and re-work it. Reroute the radio to say something new Like the portrait that portrays the painter through the muse