R E A C H I N G .


(a series of visuals with text ; on 'reaching' ; there is no one interpretation of this musing)




If you reach inside of my throat,

Falling all the way into that pale pink tunnel

Down, down, further down you go.

Its glistening and slippery,

its kind of soft, a bit sticky.

If you reach inside of my throat,

Fingers, soft touches, and then,

Red and pink, wet and dry,

sometimes its golden.

There's a golden universe, there,

inside where you are,

An entire universe for you, to explore,

On your own.

If you reach inside of my throat.

You're reaching inside of my throat,

I can feel you drowning within me.

At first, You're slow, very very slow,

And then fast, all at once,

No lines between us, I can't even see.

I want you to reach inside of my throat,

I can hear the music playing as you go,

Round and round, down, all the way you go.

Your face, its close.

So so close, but yet too far.

In my dreams,

You're inside of my throat.

But they're only dreams.

I don’t know where you are.

I wish you could reach,

Inside of my throat.




(An exploration into bodily images, concepts and ideas that are traditionally 'repulsive'.)













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