Me and Daria are a bit like the sun and moon inside a love story/morning glory...
She's a diary to be nurtured just like a fruit tree being free...
She's Cinderella being Bela...
She's an Aria being Daria...
She's Kovaleva being queen of Sheba...
What I know is that she isn't my doom...
She's inside our own room...
She's funny...
She's not a bunny...
She's Vampira inside our own empire...
She's Bela and sleeping beauty together while being our joy without a toy...
She isn't my ghost, in fact she's my host...
Constantine always tell me that she's my spleen...
 |
She's an art school...
She knows that we are no fool with or without a tool...
|
She's eyes with no lies...
There are times when her heart rides...
Sometimes "Chungking Express" is our movie chess...
Sometimes, she's more than a little princess...
There're projects inside our love story that are us breathing in and out with no sigh or shout...
She's gotta look...
She's a magnificient cook...
She's not a "fallen angel" inside a movie groovy, but she has legs that are envy of a zombie girl who in streets begs lost inside a call staring at an empty house hall...
We've a story to tell...
She's my belle inside a spell...
She yells in my direction to bring water from our own well...
She's a scarlet witch that knows what to preach...
She knows what we reach...
I'm suddenly lost in Lynch's world when she's staring at me by our house wall...
Her eyes are on my neck putting ourselves together in the doors kitchen back...
The Endless summon us together forever where an ice-cream is more than a dream...
She's glam when she hold us both tight during the night...
She's class through the looking glass...
Not quite sure why we endure...
She tells me that we're the cure...
Her smile makes me wonder for a little while...
She's time when we echo our rhyme...
Her poetry and music is near a tree...
She's herself and me for free...
There's no surrealism at all in us just because we're an euphemism entering a magic bus...
She's a movie quote when "days of being wild" aren't a child...
She suddenly wears my coat as our own personal boat...
She's not a whip...
She's a trip...
She knows me when I'm near the sea...
She always tell me who will us both be...
There's a writer inside a movie trying to figure out a fable without an electric cable in "2046" deep inside our sudden mix...
 |
She's nature/mature...
She's more than a simple tattoo...
She's our own taboo within a peakaboo...
|
Me and Daria are like this inside a kiss or near a total bliss...
She's our spear...
I'm her lullaby to bare...
She's light...
Even when we do try to put us both together into an insight a bit bright into the holy night...
Many thanks to all international artists who're helping me and Daria inside a book project
Below is a short wordless story by Croatian maestro Danijel Zezelj who I worked with on books and world wide exhibitions about how the world always was and always will be.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
No comments:
Post a Comment