Let’s go find some peace. by Manon Vacher Via Flickr: Going away for a few days. Coming back with new emotions on films. Cameras are all packed ♥ Facebook|Tumblr|Instagram♫Song
We are dancing in the bleach kitchen where all of our friends hold a beer and an apple. You say, tell me about your room, your walls made of ginger and calyx and I say, you are my door. This isn’t my house. This map is winter’s comings: stranger, pod, house of sugar. Let me trace our route for you. Let me drive you there. The circle of my tongue sifting you like flour. We are in the bleach kitchen where all our friends hold an apple, so I ask, what color is longing? and you answer, fling me. Here, I am handing you a sketch. My eyes are greener than that. Draw my reoccurrence. Smudge my knees. We are kneeling for the white moon while California dries. I have candied ginger on my lips. There is nectar on the floor. You wore that shirt because your eyes are sand. Our sediment, my empty house, this waiting. Just press your back against me. I am trying to sort you out. You are running our limbs to the center. None of us are fish. We are in the bleach kitchen where all our friends hold a beer, and I sigh ocean blue and you hum moon core. We are all just trying to be wordless. I am opening my ribs. Slip your hand through. Just be holy and spill through space. There is a pie in the oven. Our hearts are full of sea. I am rooting myself on your walls. We hunger for depth. You count the sugar grains. We are in the bleach kitchen and all our friends are drunk and sinning, and you breath flour and I moan sand phase. This is sand. This is water.
