Disposable is a mode
of reaching out
for kicks, and egos. Drowning,
There’s a space in between, a state of longing.
One of great vulnerability, leaving us lost and lorn. The end of a short
and colorful trip
that slowly desaturates the mood. Disposable
Affection. Disposable us.
Our senses awake can’t be disposed of.
Tastes, smells, touches, words affect our visions. Memories. All ingrained. Visible on our skin’s landscape. Palpable marks we can never delete. But send to another state of matter.
As we move on quickly.
Commission for Visceral8, New York
Copyright © All rights reserved.
Bob Jones 2016-2022