Dedicated to my visual affinities.

A mosaic of images running through the web but also my thoughts, my dreams and my reality.

Lolita Breathe.  One Love.  Please visit here.

+ Share

No Comments »

Hail to the small diversions;

Fantastical ideas becoming simple realities

A woman caught right at her most vulnerable

Curled up in fetal position, in limbo, or running away

Photographs by Maya Chandally

+ Share

No Comments »

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't

grow on trees, like in the old days. So where

does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy,

like being unleashed with a credit card

in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.

The sloppy kiss. The peck.

The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we

shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips

taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss.

The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.

The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad

sometimes kiss. The I know

your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get

older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving
home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road,

with its purple thumb out. If you

were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's

red door just to see how it fits. Oh where

does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.

Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.

Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.

Now what? Don't invite the kiss over

and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious

and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey.

It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters,

but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of

your body without saying good-bye,

and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left

on the inside of your mouth. You must

nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it

illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest

and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a

special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow,

then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath

a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.

But one kiss levitates above all the others. The

intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.

The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.

Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,

like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.    

- Jeffrey McDaniel    

**Thanks D**

+ Share

No Comments »

My best boy-friend is back home for a few days. The holiday atmosphere is in full effect which means the streets are dead and quality chill time is happening on the couch and in the kitchen of my friend’s apartment. Once again Dee’s   party was a big success. Jolly Jolly.

+ Share

No Comments »

Once you learn to avoid the female centric parties

it’s as easy as downhill

a vibe should be developed, not found on the ground

head up, shoulders loose

forget Mother Goose, think picky Barn Swallow

and follow the one with symmetrical feathers or in our case, nice leathers

And when you hear a nice beat, a magnetic pull to a sweet treat

when all niceties travel by impulse

and his smile resembles that of a sky diver

well then it’s clear what’s happening here

that hopes attach to thrill

strings detach by will

and

BADABOOM you’ve got yourself a groom

+ Share

No Comments »

“Here in the city [the] world thrums around us with an energizing momentum independent of our inner resources” – Francine Prose

Solitude among crowds may not be hard to find nowadays, but a photograph that can capture the sullen faces of New York dames so skillfully is. I dig.

*Taken by Jonathan Auch. For more his photography/poetry punch check out his website here. 

+ Share

No Comments »