Hello, can you hear me breathing away my lungs? My life? Are you listening to the sounds that fall through my feet? Stop roaming, stay still, remain and just gaze. Your eyes of brown and green gleam, illuminating my spine. I want to feel you and again and fall free into you heat, crash on to your bed and kiss like flickering streetlights o a saturday night of paradise. Your radiance, your smiles gleam through my ears. I hover and ache in the silence, the texture of corduroy and chords churn and rattle again, washing machine in my chest. I wonder if I’m being pushed aside, over, in front, behind, away from you. Under gutters of starlight I want a carnal sensation, not porridge. A constant malady. Shale shame washes over my skin, empty so the dust drops slowly over my lonely shoulders. Like a crane in the sky, I want my heart to be that high. Pulsating wounds want to burst and flare along our walls of skin. I’m tired of losing and abusing.
happymothersday #mamajane# alwaysaninspiration# loveyoutodeath#
Swoon, New York City, New York.
Using recycled newsprint to create her drawings, the thin material yellows and cracks with prolonged exposure to the environment. When asked if this reflected a particular social or political commentary, Swoon prefers to create a visual language where the viewer can create their own social commentary.
Finally in a bed to call my own. Nomad no longer (at Southbank)