~ ziggy sundust ~

poetry is born from insecurity

there is something in this sentence but i remain distrustful. last night there was a full moon over the hospital. i had this extremely vivid dream, with dark oak wood, library, naked skin, and a voice, a calling. i woke up and read. then caught a glimpse of sleeping v. and in a short while i saw a deamon in the scarce sunlight. i blinked - it was gone but i remembered his arm. i grabbed the pencils. the sound of paper and graphite. cars passing. a new day.

a sketch. a beauty of imperfection. an energy of temporarity.
soft graphite. hard sunlight.