Dancing in September
The floor vibrates from the heavy bass-speaker
We’re drunk and silly
There’s only two cigarettes left in my Marlboro soft-pack
I might want the last one for myself, at the terrace while staring out into the night.
It doesn’t have to end like that.
If we let bodies play, smiles connect. No words. Then the night will be ours to remember.
Leave your horrible choice of education, my thrown-away talent, the violent past, broken promises, stories about the cuts on your thighs.
The less we know about each other, the better.
Reality itself’s too harsh and cruel.
Kids get slaughtered because of money
Perfect couples cheating
You use me for my bodys heat and I use you to cure loneliness.
There’s no heaven and innocent, no blank sheets.
Just bleached
Hidden
Overwritten
Sequences of hope.
I look into her alive eyes. They’re one and a half bottle of red wine-happy.
What if I fancy her mothers looks? What if she hid the elders tablets at the center she works part-time in here and then?
What if she tells me that she’s doing this to piss off her ex? What if there’s no heroes left?
Smile back, shut up and dance to Earth, Wind and Fire.
A guy pukes in the corner.
Great.
If this goes to hell then I’ll not be the only one that sleeps side-by-side a gaping space.
Photographer: Albin Siggesson
Model: Andrea
