you are much more than simply dead:
I am a dish for your ashes,
I am a fist for your vanished air.
the most terrible thing about life
is finding it gone.” – Charles Bukowski
Alone with endless summer days wasted
I lay short of breath
while fumes of cigarette smoke
cling to my breath
wasted plans needlessly
come to the forth passing each day
hell is alone with a cigarette
on nice summer day
some random words i threw together to sound like i know how to write poems, i like it though because it sums up everything the picture is meant to mean.. I guess the summer has been like my past few, stranded on my Reservation, Feeling boring and utterly useless. I do have to say that my photography saved me this summer. i feel as though this summer life hasnt completely passed me by this year. i feel even though there was few opportunity to see old friends, have fun, or talk about much; photography has been in the back of my mind eating away at the monotony and disappointment i have felt like this year. i feel like even though i am still alone that i have found a constructive passion to see the world through. Thanks to photography, for pushing me forward. I toast to art, and from there life.