That time @coldlips_ x @kirstyallison_ threw a party @thesociallondon last 03/08/19 + There I was speaking ₣ØɌ ₮ĦɆ ɌØM₳₦₮Ɨ€$ ⱠɆ₣₮ ₳ⱠƗ⩔Ɇ, the poem that screams it all. As loud as we are silently thinking. Essentially, a love letter to flesh, sex, and Rock’N’Roll.

Call it Romanticism actually.

Citizen in dust,
Lover at its doggiest,
I was only a passer-by when you called me from the other side of the street: ‘Hey Swiss Cindy, let me break your poetry 🍒!’

So much time for you @kirstyallison_
And LOVE for @coldlips_ punk community.
· FOR THE ROMANTICS LEFT ALIVE (2019) ©Cindy Fournier | Video by the rebel exquisite @kirstyallison_

I’ve been calling you, all this time through.

Have you been hearing my strings; or joining my voice. Alone yet with you, I built the cave where all my dreams, your wish come true.


Can you see THE ETHER OPENING, LIKE MY LEGS for you to press and please.

Can you beg once again for my flesh to dance and freeze?

My teeth still biting yours, I am still enduring the main course. It tastes like blues, a reminiscence of fresh clean jean, impossible to move in.

I trust the night to brighten our daylight,

This feeling, a thrill, eating me alive.

Shivers on my spine, the belt undone, zip down, you overstepped for a slice of mine.

Religiously, painfully, I’m yours only.

Between Nature and Grace, I’ve erased all sights, all traces of sane.

I am losing it. Licking it. Pretending to survive.

THRIVING FOR PRIDE. >Hungry, so politely hungry.<

I close my eyes to rejoice with you. You’re far, I’m apart.

And I hear your melody, sensual melancholy grabbing my neck, this wreck from a long time bullied.

BECAUSE I’M REAL. Because I’m deep.

As intense as the Universe itself,

The black holes on everyone’s road.

You’re welcome to jump in this with me.

Simply believe… that when I extend senses and meanings,

It then reaches the Infinite, blossoming, roots and leaves, outside from within.

You’ll suffer and collapse because it hurts. IT HURTS.

Like flames rolling on the soil of your skin.


An eternal trance of sex and murders.

The negatives in every pictures, entering every cracks and bones with splendour.

I call it.



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