He's tearing me apart.
The watchword is overlapping, mixing shapes, faces, eyes, hands, fingers, mouths, tongues, pictures of him, pictures of other men. But when I bring the different images together… a harrowing wind stirs up huge dust clouds, which not only make it difficult to see anything, but if I push too hard, it pushes back.
How do you bust the clouds?
I'm in a higher state of consciousness. You better hide behind the clouds. And behind you I can see millions of people. I'm able to perceive this overlay. It's only overlap, it's only duplication. Overlap and bubbles. A large bed, in the corner. A broken bed, in my imagination.
And it's tearing me apart. Again.
🎧 Burn that broked bed. Calexico, Iron & Wine.