It's been a mad, mad, mad love of late. Perilous overture. Some of a cuntish crescendo. And I've only myself to blame. I won't lie. I'm losing my 'fucking' mind. And I love it. I love every last dying moment of it. Because we're all dying you know. From the minute we're squeezed through that tiny little, velvet saturate subway. From that first eensy breath. All of us. We're slowly slipping. Fading away. Isn't it beautiful? So, let us create and exist whilst we are still warm. And love like tomorrow may never come.

And on that note...insert (vomit)

―image: Jackson Pollock in his studio