ashstfu
“I like you. How slow all of a sudden. How sweet. You cannot know. You’re destroying me.”
Turquoise stone binds me to space—availability arises and resolves itself. My identity is fulfilled through those cold blue beads. Embrace the terror of recognition; marbles in the Mirror, spinning. I perceive passion as an all-consuming hot spring that retreats into itself. White linen, found flowers, persimmon paste. My toast is cold and crumbles in my palms. The inversion manifests itself as a Kit Kat Bar. The final fulfillment of presence: I swallow. The birds cry out, and it rains blue-blue-blue.
Photo source.
