House high and horizontal

You’re a stone. I’m a stone.

I guess that’s just how sinking works.

Are we just artists

with pockets full of us

trying to destruct in the most

creative way?

Am I the stone? Are you the stone?

A thousand miles and a day,

and I though India wasn’t far.

Your kisses are my India now.

God what choice!

Who’s the sinker? Who doesn’t want to float?

She’s wearing the pink better.

You’ve met all the right people

in all the right places.

I’ve met them too.