His,

fuel of a machine
danced into his veins
from moments of pleasure
to a moment – awake

woke up to beautiful toxicity
woke up to blood
a drink after the other
would not stop

Hers,

smoke of cigarettes
mascara on a distinct face
from moments of pleasure
to one moment – pain

slept to old phone conversations
slept to pictures
a drink after the other
would not stop

Blend

image.jpegblend into me

like cherry, oak-aged whisky

allow your ripples

to move into this painting

of mine

intoxicate my veins

seep into my mind

 

Blood Rush

Nov. 28 2015 at two in the morning, I experienced the best thing that ever happened to me. The pictures below are the result of my 240Km/hr-car-crash during a street race with my bestfriend. Almost a year later, I decided to share what was an addictive course-changer. I realized that only your closeness to death, can get you to be as alive as I was since then. I became a seeker of that rush, whether through getting near to death in the same way, or through sex. I also became a seeker of simple pleasure. It’s hard to explain, but it’s beautiful. Whether the lively talk about the mundane every-day life blantness of detail with your bestfriend, the potent unexpected sex with a one-night (and potentially every-night) lover, the cup of coffee in your childhood home, or the lines by the eyes of your beautiful mother, you embrace every grain of it.

I end with the quote: “With every pulse you have is a trophy engraved with the words ‘You Are Alive.’, act like it.”