let it bleed

 I'm cleaning out the drafts of the random thoughts from my phone and other unfinished masterpieces. My specialty.

They are perfect in my mind you see. I let myself down with words. With pencil or color. But in my mind.....

Only performance pieces. Like scenes that morph and warp erotic intensity as they blossom, tend to be perfection to me. It makes sense. its private art.between you and I. Perhaps I capture a nanosecond. It is but a reminder to you and I of the beautiful twisted darkness that we danced in for the briefest moment.

my thoughts too intense to be anything but felt.
 push the throttle.