Keep Art Alive :: Art by Jim Tsinganos
and sharing truths,
on those who try to waste our youth.”
Our heartbeats quickened, pulse racing as if we were chemically fueled, but we had not been high in years now, at least from my side of a shared point of view. Perhaps I was only speaking for me, but in that moment as we stole away into the setting sun, pedal pushed halfway to the floorboards of a rented, rusting out car, I felt like all this must just be love.
Naive, I suppose, to believe in such notions when all around us the world was falling to its knees. We had no role models to follow, no functioning forms of forever to tether our promises to, the children of divorce and decay, but yet we still grabbed a hold of each other’s hands.
Nights spent in an air-conditioned motel room, we hardly slept, our bodies never getting enough of each other, sheets tangled and finally torn off the bed completely, lips chapped and limbs sore, but still we rallied and rolled together. We believed with all we were worth that this would be enough, that we would never need anything else, that this was our everything. We were so young then. We would never be that young again.
We were dreamers.
Dreamers (live) :: Graveyard Lovers