BUDDIES IN BAD TIMES
SEASON 47 || 2025 – 26
(these are the things
we longed for).
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and what if it had been different? what if we’d thrown out those plane tickets, ended that stupid argument (whatever it was even about), and jumped into the surf? what if we’d wasted less time? what if we’d wasted more? what if we’d held our breath just a moment longer?
this is not the future we were promised. this isn’t even the future we promised each other. my heart swells with yearning for revolution i don’t have words for: any world but this. i want to trace atomic explosions on your thigh with my tongue. i want our orgasm to unleash a firestorm of starting over, i want heave with sweat and the smell of you and how it could all still turn out for the best, believing (foolish faggots that we are) that we can fuck our way into reckless utopias.
breathe with me. brace yourself baby. when the sun crests the waves we jump.
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“the only thing a work of
