A Grace Jones Paradox by Nick Ingram

Am I slowly moving away from these
continental philosophical 
interpretations of life and existence?
I mean, after all: what is the avant-
garde? I have passed beyond the pallid point
of boredom; there are certain people who
only ever create unhappiness.
I never want to know people such as
these. I want to get back to that old sense
of decadence: every emotion has
an elation, this could just be the sound
of my insanity.
                                                 -Neon lights are
alight tonight- 
                                                 She looked like she’d been out
drinking for the past three days: had slept for
forty-eight hours, had sat up and
wondered what the fuck had happened; all he
wanted was glamour and a little bit of love.

I could do with a beautiful woman –
what were those embers of summer, lost time
remembrance on the lips of those we
once loved? Sometimes all you want is a little
bit of beauty and love.

                                                  Grace Jones had a 
swagger during the dark of the night:
chaotically beautiful.

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