i don’t like to be touched. i don’t touch people often either. and i stare at people a lot. because i want to know what makes them tick. and when i found out, i come closer. but only if what makes them tick makes me tick too.
i am not interested in people’s souls. i am interested in the bombs they carry inside of them.
i want to play with that bomb. i want to blow myself up with that bomb. for me, love is the bomb. & i am not wasting my time on half-things, robberies, rapes, car crashes.
i want bombs. i want terror. that is the only thing i accept.
i want chrapnels in my body. i want a carnival of wounds only love can cause. have you ever seen a body hit by chrapnels? it’s a wound that never heals. the body looks like it’s a work of jason pollock. or books that started to talk, dance in your hands.
and for the first time in your life, you. are. not. afraid. you. love. and. all. hell. breaks. loose. —-by marija.
