“I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again,
look for me under your boot-soles”
(photo: The Gypsy Camp by Marjorie Bruford)
my match, my lighter, the flame for the cigarette i haven’t smoked in over a year.
elephant bells + headwrap + flip flops + rabid dog + patchwork skirt + zinc face paint + somewhere in thailand = my dream womb
dreadlocks + fanny pack + dress over jeans + frayed old scarf + camel = the undead hippie heart
dearest hands behind the amazing, please hire me.
your world is my world.
we speak the same tangent.
“…it seems inevitable that one is a loner being born an artist, an outsider, and it can be, and is a very rough ride at times – but then I love wild horses!”
Vali Myers , 1997
on getting old:
i imagine myself salt and pepper with layers of turquoise and squash blossoms. a black gown with red dirt decorating the unhemmed seam.
john galliano is in love with ugly.
and the uglies love him for it.