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MARRY ME.
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HOLLOW WORDS TURN TO POETRY.
MARRY ME.
As a child, I always knew what I wanted to be: a poet or a serial killer.
Both used the same ammunitions, while the poet kills with words,
The assassin used a bullet but at the end, both listen the whispers of their emotions, feelings to terminate their anguish.
MARRY ME...
As a teenager, I wanted to be a saint or a whore. Both used the same trick, one sell his soul, the other one sell his flesh but at the end, each ones is searching to escape.
MARRY ME…
As an adult, I wanted to be a cobra or a lethal rose. Both used their beauty.
One will dance, his stare hypnotise you to inject his lethal venom, and the other one will always prick your heart to piece.
MARRY ME…
These days, I dream and wish to be love and to love, I dream of the man pressing his lips again mine and wish the sweetest kiss of a lady.
Because at the end of the day, we are all sexual being…
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Vive le Quebec libre!
WONDERFUL!!
WONDERFUL!!
thank you, 1 word can make a
thank you, 1 word can make a world of difference
Visual poet/ Libertine lost in a labyrinth of complexities, methaphors, searching for the essence/ Ink of life/ death to spell my syphilistic words on the page/ screen.