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posted by Drunk n Sailor at
2:28 PM
Infer: This is a moment. This is a resembled movement. A document a drawing a low blow a fuck. We sift oceanic bewteen what happened and the dream. We drunk and fumble. We are aesthetically pleasing. We are floating out.
3 Comments:
in a beach house everything is perfect and there's no dust anywhere. like you'd think there'd be some on a piece of glass but there's just not. and everthing's pastel because a beachhouse is all about water and crazy lights at the end of the day making wierdness. everything's faded a little. a little brittle. like you could knock the whole schebang over like driftwood. like someone just fuckin left it there
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we will never allow we will let let the bloom burn. it would fold. it overs. the sky is so tall it can stark us. and if amends if mends
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