I dream you, and you come to me intact, in focus, indiscreet, mouthing the sweetest lies as if we cared. As if, in fact, we might begin again with needle-tracks and scratches down your arms that might have told in drunken hieroglyphs how heavy-shouldered I pick my way through a night of empty forecourts, back to the etceteras of passion: the obligatory pathos of discarded shoes, the glass of water juddering by the bed, the face my heavenly eyes avoid. —Tim Kendall, “Hieroglyphs” Photography Credit Leonid Tishkov and Boris Bendikov

i love this!!