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Tuesday

GARLANDS

listening to Cocteau Twins and Le Monte Young, taking pictures of your roommate's open mouth, sleeping in public, spitting blood into snowbanks (it's my new palette), small repetitive movements (drawing), running your hands through your greasy hair, trapped in rooms, painting on milk cartons and cigarette packages, long black robe dragging on the floor, muffled sounds, warbling vocals, unintentional reverb, favorite words, imaginary bands, the culmination of all your greatest ideas, not taking credit for this pile of debris, hiding your signature in a public space



ℱ☩ℕ