Jellyfish Lagoon

the heat leaves a shadow that melts into my skin. I don’t care about my face anymore. I don’t dream. I ignore things that shine gold-like in the distance. summer has dust in his eyes and a tongue that licks my body dry. immersed in sound and vision, I imagine staying forever. when I close my eyes I see shoals of colours approaching, electric threads in the sky.



a lack of taste or skill or ability. a constant lack of money. no ambition or layers of self-imposed performance anxiety under which she sleeps for days. the lack of text, texts, texture. watch others watch yourself watch them. she stares at blank papers until fractures appear. a lack. lcak. I swallow it whole.


Helmut Newton for YSL

a row of houses with yellow mouths and gleaming teeth inside. light like fluid that holds and protects. inside, I could
do all those things.
a room of my own with books along the walls and calls that cut through the night. I decide, get up, follow through. I turn to you and I scream for the sake of reactions. there’s nothing else. just snakes of ink in the bath and deep blue colours outside. I move through it, looking in.