Disrupting your day...

...is my favorite hobby.

creative drought

nothing else to say...

long time, no see

she's a tramp,
she's a vamp,
but she still does her dance.
she's a tramp,
she's a vamp,
but she still kills the dance.

my dear friend/muse/partner in crime: LUCIANA

all photos by me!

meet him

his name is jean noir.
he is a clown
and he is in LOVE

flesh of your flesh-
i welcome you now
to the rotting zoo within these city walls
fixed beneath the sex, we crack and drown
your fragility is a crystal shattered on the cabin floor
allow yourself to be my hostage
at least until the stars go home...

all photos by me!

ROMANCE PORN

This is OUR movie.
With the scenes NOBODY understands.
The details EVERYONE envies.

:]

COINCIDENCE

"COINCIDENCE MAKES SENSE ONLY WITH YOU" - Bjork

Oh these words are true. I see clouds can't fly as high as you. These birds can't sing like you do. And I feel things that feel like you. It makes no sense, I know.
We've all come crawling back once, with past words brewing in our mouths like rabies. My legs are burning right behind your smoking brain. I apologize for my speeding, I've been rushing back and forth between a path I swore I knew.
And I'm naked once again before your eyes, baring all my scars and my muscles as well. They're the presents that I bring: the beats inside my chest & the clocks and wheels beneath my skull. We're dancing, together. I stumbled over you, I'm sorry. We're dancing again. Time is a swooning crescent and it fall upon our heads. Welcome to our next years. But I'm willing to hide, I'm willing to fight. Even though my thoughts are swollen and my jaw is aching.
Beneath my clothes I'm growing pale.

Some very old self portraits. "Static" 2005

THE MORNING AFTER

photographs by Diego Guillén

all we know is what we're fighting for

No seremos los primeros en decir que nuestro mundo es grotesco. Y ni seremos los los últimos. Sólo somos una voz más, unidos a millones de gritos silenciados por la televisión, por los gemidos eróticos, por las risas falsas, por los carros último modelo, por el sonido del oro repartiéndose. Sin embargo, seguimos teniendo voz. Todo lo que retumba afuera de la ventana en realidad es el silencio de una tristeza sin cara y sin nombre, las alas rotas de un pensamiento oculto y enterrado. Sal. Sal al mundo y camínalo.
Siempre tenemos el morbo de ver que pasa cuando hacemos caos. ¿Qué tal si por hoy intentas ver qué pasa si reparas algo? Una amistad, un corazón, una carretera, un árbol muerto. ¿Si secas una lágrima ajena o abrazas a un desconocido?
A cada hora, la gente permanece enmascarada. Todos se esconden atrás de un cinismo seco, de una comedia sedada para conseguir un objetivo cifrado. Las horas pasan y me estoy secando, sufriendo por travesuras ajenas. Con el caminar de las nubes se me van los instantes y me quedo con un ataúd de besos, sentado sobra una banqueta desgastada, mal diciendo al mundo por dejar tantos hoyos en este camino, por hacer que caigan los diluvios cuando corro para verte a los ojos.

Pero quedamos unos pocos, muy pocos, que nos bastamos con una sonrisa, con una danza improvisada. Gracias.

it's a messed up world, but for tonight we'll be alright :)