If I was young, I’d flee this town
I’d bury my dreams underground
As did I, we drink to die, we drink tonight
My tongue creepin’
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.
Laura taking pix of me being pissed-off ✌️
You suffocate to keep me warm,
‘Cause you forget i need the cold.
Courbet at Fondation Beyeler