sporadic living, i want to get at the sunrise

by Rachel Lynch in

We curled up in the western hotel's soft king bed and made sad faces when we have to leave it for our studio sublet. These days have been about that certain sense of melancholy insanity that I can't resist. We never had a sense of there being a right or wrong side of the room.

Strolling down the sunset strip, when I come here I get more time to think. Feathers in ear and a pink tee as a dress, I walk around in a nightgown and smoke out my window. This world is on fire and I'm passionate about keeping the flame burning. Inside, we are kings and queens of this temporary playground.

All night, rise and fall, it was a reunion.

The rest of the world doesn't have to count. Not tonight.