The white demons that hanged my wet dreams, now live in overexposed photos, and the steam that already escapes from my breath, flows freely in the opposite direction of good, for evil, we need it to see what is beautiful, to ask forgiveness from my bonds for blooming with sweat and feeling that there is nothing better.
It's worth the sin of undressing in front of each other, with dirty feet and desires begging to be satiated, skipping meal times to burn your tongue with drops from heaven; Because it's easy and it's what comes closest to my idea of feeling eternity.
It's hard to stop on the dubbed road to hell, where what should be hot coals caress my ankles instead of burning them, when the sulfur scent turns into cherry infusions with chocolates.
But what is the point of believing that something exists after death?
My pierced soul lets through water diluted with your blood from other dimensions, from different times, where perhaps we have already died, where perhaps we have already loved each other until the end of time.
Photographers: subway rat
