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FIRE IN MY EYES, GOLD SPARKS IN MY HAIR.

"Oh go through the walls; if you must, walk on the ledges of roofs, of oceans; cover yourself with light; use menace, use prayer…
My sleepers will flee toward another America” - Jean Genet

I come from a place where we all have insomnia. Relentless insomnia. You can’t breathe… so you write. Reckless souls all fight on concrete bending time. And if by any chance you win big, you really win big.
L.G

Where all the flickering gold lights get lost..

well that’s where you might catch me.

Leanin on backalley walls and boulevards behind shadows.

Dirty aces in my pocket.

Wear my heart on my sleeve, i play for keeps.

Come and find me.

L.G