All in Thinks

Phonies

When a friendly, young Nigerian drug dealer looks you in the eye and with conviction says: “You will be my wife,” it is time to leave Prague.

I’ve never much been in the business of words, or held them in a scholarly rearview mirror, I'm only interested in the feelings of them. The way they sound in your head, the way they roll out of sticky mouths.

That's how Wilson and Asher start a love song? This is the track we play at special events? If not simply for the lack of eloquence, Find another love song, kid.

This summer has left me twisting my soul up into that space of air between nicotine and painted blue aluminum, dwelling quietly between sustenance and flexible metal logic.