melt city light

2

Portraits of myself by Krystal Pinto | 2014 | Acid Trip 

Heres a toast to the blunt that lasted 9 hours and the 

hypnotic movements of the clouds

The way the sun danced on our skin 

The way our hands danced on the canvas 

Sticky with Paint I looked down and saw the world form in the drying cracks of folding palms 

Your eyes glowed golden in the black light 

The way you made love left me speechless. 

Heres to the neon paint you finally got to use

Heres to you finally using it on me

Thank you for being my canvas 

Thank you for making me your muse

Most of all thank you for taking this Tripwith me. 

So I remember we got our driver’s license, and my friend Hillel had this little Dodson, painted green, and…Hollywood would get so crazy in the winter – the rains would come and the hills would just kind of melt down into the city lights, and, well, you know, we smoked weed and we’d go up in the hills and we’d listen to progressive rock music and just kind of trip out and…well, we would dream, you know, we would dream, and we would talk about what we wanted to do, and we would talk about girls and music, and, you know, Hillel wanted to be a rock star – I didn’t even know what that was, I was like, whatever you wanna do, man, I’m coming with you.
I’m right with you, my friend.

She is melting with the city lights as she blames the night for being too loud. Her footsteps are grooves to the honks of the buses, the beats of the music blasting from the speakers in the party downtown and the whispers of forever of the lovers in the dark alleys. She is made of shots of espresso at 2:15 am and conversations made out of silence under neglected traffic lights. She is the feeling of slow dancing in the middle of an empty street and light steps into the front yard while dreading the idea of saying goodbye. She is a glimpse of spring and a taste of autumn tied in a winter’s kiss. She is a loud beginning as the rest of the world sleeps.
—  n.a., Camille