dream 4

crying, weeping in total sentiment at the old kitchen sink after recollecting stories of friendship. the confusing bedroom floors of strewn objects. i was so mad. the feeling of a message, lyrics through the fog of time "fuck your war crimes." remember that time i handcuffed myself to the sink? remember when we were interrogated? remember when you couldn't find your passport? remember all the videos we took? and the cold wind on coney island? all the spaces that couldn't exist now? they will accomodate us when we get there. all you had to do was perservere through all of this.