Slap me in the face

When we fight words crawl in the air, they stagger around our bodies glasses of wine that fuel a heated conversation; they once heightened the heat of jokes that pinch the air- but, once they are ignited with real fire, they let go of connotations becoming their purest, most aggressive denotative form. Nonetheless, designating flamesContinue reading “Slap me in the face”

:the capital of capitalism

Above my ego’s head crystals grasp each other ends, holding on what their brother’s hands and descend into the world like a family tree their family tree: a chandelier. Next to the single page of paper where my pencil draws whatever spirals into my head lives a glass of sauvignon blanc, it tastes oaky whenContinue reading “:the capital of capitalism”