The Great Escapade

Cynical Modernism.

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I can’t decide how to remember.
I’ll see you again soon, but not soon enough,
I’m so sorry.

Never had it come louder than it did this time,
A strong gust of wind holding dearly to the bottom, a wild repeating blur the only foundation,
I found a suite filled with parts heading towards Kentucky to be built into cars by factory line workers who secretly hate their lives,
Don’t worry your secret is safe with me,
And there didn’t need to be nothing so I guess it’s okay anyways,
I wish I would catch you in your prime,
Twelve years before when you couldn’t differentiate between bolt types,
Or when there was time and what it meant anyways,
And I can see this blur too don’t worry, I’m not doing anything that’s working either,
Nothing moves and I’m starting to think that they never understood their principles to start with,
I wish I were the right kind of ignorant.

Cozy fits.


Strange words that we hide under fallen petals,
Just recently the flowers have come back, but quickly they were met with vigorous rain,
We’ll bathe in rose water but never catch the scent across the other neck,
And soon enough we’ll watch the bath be realized as a puddle anyways,
Doesn’t mean I don’t want to play,
But it also doesn’t mean I want to be soaked just yet,
It just means the same moon wasn’t seen by either of us,
At the exact same time,
And we know it’s the same.
It’s always the same.


Dries Van Noten SS13 backstage, ph. Charlotte Frereau