The Torch Singer

Oh, the places I have been; dark, lonely, uncharted
So long in darkness that my eyes began to adjust
Adjusting so long that my body began to adapt
Adapting so long that my heart began to harden

In the distance

The birth of a star
The squashing of gas and dust in the middle of a cold dark cloud
Bringing forth illumination
Lighting the darkest corners of life
No shadow left to conceal
No dusty corners in which to hide

Now, no matter my travels, she burns bright enough to lead me home:
my northern star

The point by which I navigate all of life’s journey’s
She does not lay in wait
She moves,
her light tracing and trailing her path

It remains that wherever she stands:
there lies home
here, there, or at the end of the universe.

Photo by Steve Brian. Words by Chris Sullivan.

what do we love ...

What do we love ...

we love bikes
we love cities
we love people
we love conversation
we love hope
life
determination
ambition
fire
wind
drumming
singing dancing
flying

we love those that came before and those that will come later
we love posterity
we love honor
truth
we love being ourselves
we love bright colors and solid answers
we love smiles from strangers at bus stops
we love children laughing
we love our families
we love culture
we love communication
we love love

what do we love

go ahead

    it's your turn ...

        what do we love

                                            ?

Photo by Chris Sullivan.  Words by Dustin Whitehead.

Upside Down in a Limousine; No Gravity

Sarcastically faint in my descriptions and everyone is confused

The soul one because I know when to travel in style so I think

Momentarily tainted by boos, dress shoes, and power windows

The pool on the roof is a hot tub I turn my back on terminology

I'm floating on taking pictures of the naked streets they are mine

I dreaming making mixtures of the liquid beats I will everything

After is the never always happy our futurever go lucky hot spot 

     (reflecting on the night)

Have ever I been so necessarily wrought thought I with my high

Photo by Chris Sullivan.  Words by Dustin Whitehead.

The lord has always been sweet to me

Trapezoid flipside
Ringside courtside
Follow the signs she said
The lord has always been sweet to me

I waited for a phone
And set my clock
Watch the nighttime
Found my honesty

Think about future
Talk about passed
Regret only one mistake
Forget the rest

Drive sober
Dance drunk
Fly aware
Swim naked

I always loved New York

Follow suit
Break stride
Build humor
Knock down walls

Hotels are the secret
Food is good
A bed is a dear friend
Laundry is fun

Smile when greeted
Keep only real company
Use chopsticks
Be at least as smart as a compass

These are my tid bits 

And the lord has always been sweet to me

Photo by Chris Sullivan.  Words by Dustin Whitehead.

A Rediculous Afternoon Spent With A Woman Metaphysical

And there you were.  There you were.  Pensive and distracted.  You were a wall.  You stopped me.  Dead.  I couldn't move.  The most... beautiful...

I remember thinking, "I will never need another breath.  This is it.  I can die right now."  And do you remember how I looked at you and what I... I... 

The fucked up thing is that you don't exist.  You're like a star.  Like a smudge on a star.  A blemish.  Like a...  ah ah, an angel.  -- No, you aren't an angel because you eat fish.  And angels don't eat fish.

I can't stand your... niceness.  It's exhausting.  What's the point of it all.  You just walk through the world being... what?  Nice to people?

And that thing you said about table manners.  About how I should sit spine up and be all... Fuck that!

Look.  I lose.  I'm the loser.  I lose.  You win.  Go live your life.  Go... save people or whatever.

I lose.

Photo by Chris Sullivan.  Monologue by Dustin Whitehead.