I want my camera back.



an addiction that leaves no fulfillment. The perfect picture is non-existant.


and all the words could never describe
an ocean that cradles me. swing swing.
sway. sway.
Longing for the passion of crimson kisses
And no, Van Goh, I do not approve
Of your idle disgrace in paint against supple paper
I do not have an obsession with a knife
Earless artist. Wordless vine.
Staring at a clock inside of my mind.
The walls are white. Red stains the floor.
No, I do not have an obsession.
Marie, my headless idol.
Swing swing. sway sway.