My hands reeked of the love that i have been making to myself...my fingers are self annhilatory ,they somehow know how to stew me in my body's own currents...
i'm ill at heart and i want all things to be like those Fauvism styled paintings...stark and strong coloured how they want to impose their own own beliefs of time and space and life and reality on you.
Searching for truth hurts,impressionism just isn't my forte...
i want you,i want black and white and self manifestating and i want us (and the world and these low roofed karachi restaurants) to be a little less abstract.