❝ Can we stop these dreams
from turning into fiction?
Can we make them real?
Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

(via deadandgoneee)


Vogue Nippon | February 2008“One day in Tokyo”Devon Aoki by David Mushegain

[i must have]

i must have misplaced you like i misplace other things.

i must have forgotten where i put you and along with the rest, pretended like          you were never even there to begin with.

i must have drifted you off, far away in the back of my mind, along with my camera
         that i lost at that party because i was too drunk and
that one pair of keys.

i must have left you alone for a minute,
or however long it takes for someone to be taken.

         or maybe i lost you while i was taken by someone else.

i must have tossed you away by accident like the time i threw away that important note.
         or maybe I mixed you up with someone else like that one time i put the wrong ingredient in the cookies and they tasted so bad.

i must have because there is no other explanation.

i must have because you can’t miss something you haven’t lost.

i had a dream you were in my bed the other night.
you made me miss my final exam.
you even ruin my life in my dreams.

Almost There (but not quite)

Hard to imagine getting
anywhere in this round-a-bout
roller coaster you call your heart.
Another semi-nude encounter in this unfinished
slab of space, the two of us;

Soft-skinned prepubescence
allows a certain reminiscent newness to infiltrate
You remind me of gentle winds
unsure of their direction.
whenever you’re

Eager to feel
left without any lasting sustenance.
you do your job as you’re told
When will it be up to you?
laying down and looking up
it is time to

Guardrails shaking loose their bolts
while unseen emotions
inconspicuously go on preaching
Loud and clear to every
last pair of unrepentant ears.
but it is yours i want to

[inspired by Timothy Liu’s Almost There]

a tear on the fog of my windshield

the fog sweeps beneath us and above
and i find myself resting on the endless thought of you

it carries me in and out.

how do you know what is real
when you lay on colored air
and place all your bets on mendacious density?

i ask myself if you are real
you answer,



christian dior spring/summer 2008

"and that’s the part that is so devastating, it’s not that you will never know true love, it’s that you think you already do."