Photo & Text by Lusher
These dreams are definitely beyond the pale. Of pink and soft shuttering hearts. Flickering, fluttering failing hearts. Dreams of thrashing and flailing, falling far, far away. Landing on a massive and round pink soft cushion of comfort and all forms of despair trailed off like wisps of grey/white and thick smoke. Breathing in deep and clean and exhaling ribbons of red, red love. Tying around and desperately choking the darkness and the distance. Bring closer the love not lost only long, long in it’s geography. Stamped upon this hearts map of the dreamer as branded the burden and the bliss of the bessotten. All sweet and fragrant fields of endless, endless possibility is a feeling unexplainable but not yet attainable. The cushion turns a violent degree and flips the dreamer once again downward. Falling and flailing the pink replaced with the black until one day to awaken to find all in between is diminished beneath the power of will and the undeniable pull of love. Awakened upon a physical cushion and finally holding and feeling heart to heart. No longer to fall. This life is definitely beyond the pale.