DrabblingDrabblingDrabbling
We dance around a brass dodo, water at its feet, and spin on interconnected
bicycles, plummet down spiraling yellow slide, while my father grasps us through red netting and calls himself a monster.
PridePridePride
I have this story where we sit on a mailbox on fifth avenue
and watch half naked men drive by to music that is all beat and thrust their hips in our direction and your arms are wrapped around me and we kiss like two boys once kissed, neck twisted back to meet lip to lip, in a picture I used when I was young to remind me that I’m human.
The MythThe MythThe Myth
--It is easy now, in this age of rebellion, to become preoccupied with what you are not, and forget what it is you are.
There is something here for me. I am spiritual Salmacis, entranced somewhere in between harsh ambition and bony wrists. I am mother to beasts, a merciful Medea. I never really wanted Jason anyway. I am Caesar, crying at twenty-five because I have not yet conquered anything. Oh conscript fathers, I want to be merciful but I will not hide first blood, or in first blood, for
PS. wow you're good
Thanks for the watch.
-Lindsay
--
Love is like life. It lives, it grows, and the it dies.
--
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~Blacks-and-Whites
*RestlessPhotographer
~PhotoAddicted
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