Tonight I think of you . Even if you do not think of me. I think of you. I have for a while now. You have disappeared and now the transparency is chameleon like I match it to any who will allow it’s form. You take the drawings with you and I ask for nights of release. I ask to stay up late and drink and cry and mimic my abilities and hope it will make any fucking difference at all. But show up I will. . . again. I show up. We show up. The artist shows up, for the glorious moment that is the process.
allesor 