All men are wolves, We sniff, piss and fuck But the moon, to each of us, wears different faces And different times. You, my moon, Above me, in the coldest reaches, How you rolled a cigarette, the marked fingers caressing magic From the mundane The way you drank beer from the bottle, Made my mouth … Continue reading You, My Moon.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnCVYO9Aw20&ab_channel=xlMrProdigylx The songs were fantastic, alongside some funny, poignant monologues. This one however, was exquisite. Burnham is a recent discovery, and inspiring as much as he is brilliant.
One last thing The smell of you Before I sleep Feelings I don't have words for
“I like revisiting, at certain times, spots where I was once happy; I like to shape the present in the image of the irretrievable past.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com Fitting the steel door took the last of the daylight. Afterwards, sitting on the floor of the hallway, swigging from a beer, feeling the ache radiate from my shoulders, my mind wandered. These things would have been quicker with two people, but who had that luxury anymore? The bars were … Continue reading Prepper