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You make me feel like.

you make me feel like

The end of the summer, not yet autumn still some warmth but the heat has given way to lovely warm fun memories. The breeze and darker evenings are giving me respite from long hot intense summer days that started with the Gulls crying at 4am and finish at midnight when revellers from beach side bars slide on home.

You make me feel like

Time doesn’t matter, distance doesn’t matter, bodies don’t matter. We are together on that lovely caressing warming yet cooling breeze. The sky midnight blue rolling through greens, purples to surreal peaches. Two stars twinkle and wink at each other – millions of miles apart but I blow a kiss on the breeze and I know that you will get it.

You make me feel like

Cool crisp cotton sheets, pushing my hot leg down the bed to find a cool place to take away the intensity. I turn my pillow over to feel the cold on my face and long for the breeze to come silently into the room, giving me goose bumps and making my nipples stand to attention.

You make me feel like

Nothing matters, we are tiny pieces of dust on the breeze caught in the shard of brilliant sun. I hope one day we land on the same mantle piece or picture frame or bedstead.

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About Prim Quim

I am an artist and therapist. I work within the themes of sexuality, repression, guilt, greed, contradiction, objectification, compulsion, itches that need to be scratched and bruises that need to be pressed. I am a consentual bruise presser, a boundary straddler and limit pusher. I interview people and witness their lives, I write about what I see, how I feel and all the beautiful fragments that make up my reality. I am the sum of all my parts - some bits move and other parts are static, some bits need oiling and other bits just run and run. I am both subject and object to myself. I am slave to my Art and so are the others who come into my sphere. I objectify and use, interrogate and examine - I need their reality and reasoning to lay alongside my own to compare, contrast, season and gorge upon. Exponent of automatic writing, compulsive self realisation and daring myself to go further.

One response to “You make me feel like.

  1. That is very beautiful

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