Flickr Friday

Words

We are smearing our self-pity-spread (thick) onto our bread, daily that is, of course straight onto the (rancid) drama-margarine, for that speacial mixture, (explosive) until from out of the corner of the mouth that sticky goop gushes and all I want to do is vomit.

I wish, I could preserve that love of yours in jam jars (with strawberries from the organic farm or rose leaves from hospital hedges), for a bit of variety on the breakfast table, until even that gets stuck in our throats, hinders swallowing, (careful).

Please leave your fear in cans, something in tomato sauce, do not open, it stinks.

Text by Anna Töws

Image © Antoine Henault

Image © Cindy Li

Image © Mono Carmigniani

Image © Audrey Gagnaire

Image © Normen Gadiel

Image © Tim Wu

Image © Lovisa Ingman

Image © Elisabeth Mochner

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