I met a mad hatter at high tea on a blue monday.
There was a tequila sunrise dancing vividly on his smile, and the spark of green in my eyes began to blend in.
In an evening that seemed like afternoons laughter blended into sloppy kisses. I could taste whiskey between my breaths.
A week of catastrophes and more laughter.
I found a new meaning in tarot and saw old reflections which melted into current broken mirrors.
I decided that Brooklyn high school girls have complex epic style, and I acquired a fascination with multi-textured fishnets.
I missed Desideria, and thought a lot about our emerging creation.
When will a blue Monday burst into an orange sunrise?
I want to taste it, sweetly.
When I walked through the angry Brooklyn sky last night I felt really alive
Having all that wind and rain tear through me.
I want to breath in sunshine.
But the darkness of the forthcoming storm forces desire in me.
My mind is busy with the fascination of what my hands will decide to create next.
I like knowing that blue Monday might exist.
But I want to remember tequila sunrise
Where the stars turn pink and white.