Sex life comparable to the cosmos
Vast. Dead. Cold. Ever changing.
Endings and Beginnings. Transitions.
Ten thousand infinite parallel scenarios.
Art reflects life
Life reflects art
Even the most perverse, bastardized excuses for art.
Riding the wave of consumerism til sunrise.
Distant but physically close, the exterior meets genuine anticipation and offers up mirror image emotion.
Distant memories. Distant graves. Haunted.
Drunken Sutra of raw truth at my disposal.
Weary traveller in the night,
Bathed in fluorescent light,
Cigarette in hand,
Enjoy those breaths before they carry non-truth.
Back tracking, back peddling, pan handling, and sooth saying.
Save your goodbyes, this conversation is still open.
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