Turn blue and die for christ's sake! How long are we to go on like this?
Here's the thing about photography: the camera catalyzes a devastating intimacy with each girl.
For each of you have your own special pose that you believe will make you endearing, profound or attractive. But all it does is reveal a frightening gulf of self-deception.
There's nothing special about your fucking clubs and your faux punk posturing, or innocence, or tattoos.
The whole lot of you have turned into a pail of sour homogenized milk and it has the rank stench that blooms in the corridors when a group of terrified humans collectively throw their imaginations out the window. "I am such and such!" Is the chant.
When its fervor dies you can usually find someone hanging from a tree, and in the distance, the charred rubble of artistry
Here's the thing about photography: the camera catalyzes a devastating intimacy with each girl.
For each of you have your own special pose that you believe will make you endearing, profound or attractive. But all it does is reveal a frightening gulf of self-deception.
There's nothing special about your fucking clubs and your faux punk posturing, or innocence, or tattoos.
The whole lot of you have turned into a pail of sour homogenized milk and it has the rank stench that blooms in the corridors when a group of terrified humans collectively throw their imaginations out the window. "I am such and such!" Is the chant.
When its fervor dies you can usually find someone hanging from a tree, and in the distance, the charred rubble of artistry