gus

while i stood there, two wine glasses deep with my left hand free, i could finally afford to drop my bags for once. there came a louder sound, that’d disturb anyone around but all that those soundwaves did was sit through for me.

from pictures to poems, from shampoo to letters and any other thing that i chose to bring with me, it all collided against eachother untill the mixture made sense to the painting that i couldn’t take my eyes out of.

the rocks and the waves, the brush and the paint, collision made sense to some artist that day.

my shirt that’s now stained from the red wine i saved, collision again but now it’s something new, the intention’s shifted, something i can’t undo.

collision’s not mean, births so many things. sounds from our bodies that whispers so loud.

paintings that i don’t see till i’m around.