if I could be more like you


it throws me over, a sudden fatigue, and paralyses restless ambition. throws me over and drags me out to sea where I drown in impossible dreams. the thought of hours melting away consumes me and holds me down and small stones blend with the blood on my knees. thoughts form slowly as weekends come crashing down. the mind is dead, the writing poor and the streets are vibrating, whispering, running fingers through my long brown hair. lightstreams shaking at the crossing.


front women

by quentin de briey.

some recent interviews:
wearing music like armour: interview with alisa xayalith from the naked and famous
on the brink to something new: interview with hayley mary from the jezabels