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the night belongs to the madmen and the poets

There are so many ideas i’ve fallen in love with, but often i wonder if i’ve even lived enough life to write them well.

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Here, every breath is magic, and feeling sad or happy is but a minuscule and meaningless atom in the ocean of this unbelievable universe we’re in

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Immobility is exhausting when there’s so much to be learnt in the abdomen of the world.

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hello,
romance of the roads,
forgotten inside jokes,
pictures that breathe compulsion, repulsion,
eccentric lovers, hungry for something to desire,
maybe ice cream in the cold,
among the dense blanket of city dwellers and
backdrops of winking neons,
the missing exclamation marks,
hello.

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There are other places i need to be.
(i am leaving this continent in under 48 hours)

mmrs

✈

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in flux