(by sashkka)

...and she could just die after reading that Neruda Poem
with the chill wind in her face coming back from a sunday 12-hr-shift
zombifilic thoughts and biking
mirror images and finally starting to get what chirality means after all.
sounds extremely cliche but one day we are here and tomorrow...tomorrow has no insides or outsides.
and yes, passion can be transfused
by exsanguinating a heart full of worn out fuckep up emotions


Listening to Al Green's songs
wet hair
tired as a slave
happy as a flower
physically drained and mentally fullfilled
music
deep breathing techniques
with the fixed image of that old Freud's-looking doctor
"connect with your inner self"
breath
3, 2, 1, 0 GO!