

The HoursThe road took her in. Radiohead filtered through busted speakers and played the soundtrack of her life. Tints of a smile highlighted her face in the lime ambience light of the control panel. 2.30am was her favorite time, especially when spent on the road. The occasional pair of lonely headlights wandered into her vision for five minutes at the most and then passed. She loved the dance; they were two strangers sharing the deserted expanse of the highway, sharing the secrets of the dark. Night drowned the scenery and she was floating. The yellow reflectors on the road reminded her of a landing strip which was one more reason to love driving atThe Hours


Let It InI don't know that this matters right now. I don't know that anything ever matters. I don't know the words to say, because I never know what to say and if it is right and if it helps and if it will ever touch the place I want it to find.Let It In
Before you, I had never known even the possibility of love. It seemed like a concept I would never grasp. So many things were different that I could not even begin to list them. I am not even remotely the same person. Sometimes I have doubts. I look around at the world and see the statistics and know the facts. And let's face it, I am a fact based person. I am logical and systemized and live my l
Mexico

We Are All GhostsSo I've got this horrible aching in the very bottom of the bottomless pit in my stomach. Like it's filling with thorns. And the thorns tear at my retinas, and force my blended heart through the ducts; I'm bleeding it through my tears. Pieces of me fall everywhere I go. I leave a small bit on the road, a smaller bit in the car, a larger bit in my bed, I watch flakes of myself wash away in the drain of my shower. It's no longer warm. And I listen to Diary of a Madman/Lovesong. And no matter how many good memories I have with this song, it still hurts me. I think on purpose. It's strange how one song can be the good and bad in you at the same tiWe Are All Ghosts


TrainTrainTrain
Where are you going my train(?) passing me
with a clank-and-grind steady movement,
and red blink ing lights.
I could hop on, hobo-style and ride to San Fransisco on stale bread and a sway of Jack Daniels
howling with Ginsberg in the clankity night of refugee-riding away from conformity.
Travel on the road with my
havent heard from you in a while - havent posted anything recently? i jsut went through all of your stuff again and im i complete awe (re awed if thats a word but i dont think so) once more!
such brilliant art! especially 'Letting Go' which i read twice jsut now and just gazed at the photo! your stuff's really truly amazing!
--
--all my lies are only wishes--
-paul
--
the party's at my gallery... [link] and the good times are rollin...
cheese racing, sport of the gods and the greatest use of free time [link]
member of
~Pilots=onewordphoto~indians
This fight started by ~nakira on December 5th
Join the festivities
--
--all my lies are only wishes--
--
--
--
Previous Page12Next Page