Nude Among the Waves 1938

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Věra Chytilová, Daisies (1966) 

Frank Stella 1962.

Cy Twombly.

“I fell from my bike when I was 3, so I’m incapable of having a serious relationship with you.”
Miruna Toma

The Sweet Groove of the Melodies
Yolanda Sanchez


Mark Lovejoy

I’m the girl that sits at the end of the bar
making jokes with the bartender,
leaving red lipstick on shot glasses.
I’m the girl that sits at the end of the bar
and prays you won’t talk to her.
but I’ll let you buy me a drink
and when you ask me if I have a lighter
I’ll follow you outside.
you’ll ask my name,
I’ll change the subject.
I’m not listening to a word you’ve said
as I drunkenly interrupt to tell you black is my favorite color.

you’ll ask what I do, what my passions are.
I don’t say I’m a writer
or that I cry in the car
or that my passion is eaten up by trying to get through each day.
I don’t tell you that most days I’m just proud I got out of bed.
I’ll tell you I like reading, eating oranges and rolling my own cigarettes.

I’ll kiss you up against your truck
and sit shotgun while we head downtown.
I’ll tell myself you’re too drunk to drive as I close my eyes
and pull away when you try to hold my hand.

you’ll ask for my number
and I’ll ask your girlfriend’s name.
my sister says that I should be cool,
that guys like girls that don’t bitch at them.
I’ll call you an asshole anyway.
you’ll buy me another shot
and say your relationship isn’t anything serious.
I’ll spill the contents of my purse in your car
as we make out with the windows down.
I will regret every single kiss I give you.
I won’t remember your name.

I’ll sneak off while you go buy another drink,
stop at a dive bar on the way home
because the beer is cheap
and the lights are dim.

I kiss strangers and feel nothing,
I go to bed feeling everything.
regret kisses me to sleep
and I feel everything.

— (via pale-afternoon)