No Title.

The image of your face abstracted onto paper by mechanical reproduction.

This object I use is a taunt, a refuge, an unreal hologram at the edge of the universe.


The more I use you for solace, the further your disappearance into that chemical base which apes your image. 


Racing to keep a place that reminds me of times past sucks me in deeper, 

compressing the neuro/pathological daily time travel. 


Using Format