Sunday, August 16, 2009

Words fucked art and the baby they made was ugly

a pretty flower. a pretty face. pretty trash and drawings on walls. pretty words. pretty lies.
and nothing. just staring. just sunshine. just rain. just fangs. just blood.
just everything.
just nothing.

there is something about the redundancy in this art.
in our words. in the photographs.
all the moons
and stars and stuttered sighs.
in that kiss that left you breathless.
our familiar tastes.

all of us- the same.
all us...... seeking
all us strangers
and lovers and fighters and mother fuckers.

all of us caught up in the illusion of thought.

that voice inside my head. asking. wondering.

is this beautiful?

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