Kiss me if you wanna drink me in
The flashes of the explosions are close enough to touch if you wanted to burn your fingers on the sky, and the glare rocks our shadows back against the brick, as if chaos snapped our pictures in the dark. photo / 美撒郭 writing / BILL ZAVATSKY
HAPPENS IN THAT BACKSEAT. DEVIL’S WORK, RED PANTIES. 365 HOURS A WEEK photo / (x)99. writing / Kendall Hill
The rest is you and your morphine.
One day I will go to the beach.