This is what happens when I see the night through to her old age

Come to think of it, my summer was quite... spanish.
Shit.

End of a Session

by an archeo-musical curiosity: Arythmia.

Synesthesia

I had a vision
of fingers
tracing the movements
of an agitated bee

Fleshy, distal-most extensions
of us
ravelling and tumbling
for a paragon

Their treacherous dance
translates to a lump in my throat
as I recognise the papillary lines

mirror images
to some of my permanent tattoos.

by: a wild creature