↑Marinkel *'s blog

sundays are not always as sunny as the sun might have it
residues of reveries you went too far the night before
you journeyed to the end of it and didn't buy the ticket to return
i want you to read my words, each and every single one of them
and not just read them but deform them, mold them, taste them, debase them, adore them

read them out loud down the corridors of the louvre
so loud that the echo of your voice reaches to the catacombs below
so loud that the cat mummies awaken and begin to howl in unison

there was my blood on your skin, your hands didn't want to erase
your fingers wrote my name

read my words and spit them back at me in polaroid colors
because i cannot feel them on a sunday
i am without walls or limits
crush me with my words, let me feel your violence
it is a violence of the paint brush
a crashing of the waves that are my name

sunday
make me scream