If I fly away out of reach would you come with me?Would you care?

If I fly away out of reach would you come with me? Would you care?
If I dreamed of jumping would you tell me not to dare?
And if I disappeared in one moment would you fear?
Or would you never notice if I turned into your tears?
If I was just a memory, a picture or a face
fading away into the sun without a trace,
would you remember me for who I was, what I did?
Or would you tuck me in your picture frames, where I hid
beneath your prayers and misery, your sorrow and your grief?
Admit it must be a relief.


IMAGE HOSTS:http://www.decordova.org/decordova/exhibit/2004/parkeharrison/parkeharrison04.html
http://roujinlim.wordpress.com/page/3/

SO we stay

Tuesday, May 01, 2007
So we stayed up 'til dawn drawing circles in our minds and in the center lay the aggression of what could be. The circle itself defined the anger of what never will be and the outside is you walking away.
So we stayed up screaming tangents and drawing rectangles in our minds and in the center lay the impossibility of a smooth transition. The rectangle itself boxing us into this pain, this emotion and the hard edges knocked us out of reality and the outside of this rectangle is me running around every sharp turn trying to catch up to you.
And even so we stayed up waiting for all the right answers. And with this dug into our deepest regrets, pulling them out while you shoved them in my face.We are not good for each other. We are two different shapes. Two different souls. You hate me.
We stay up drawing circles in our minds and rectangles to hide our emotions in while we pace our chosen path. You still stand on the outside looking in as if I'm the only one who's ever loved. Maybe it's easier for you to pretend but I'm use to seeing you walk away anyway.
You grip your forehead, rub your eyes, raise your fists in aggravation. You huff and puff but you can not blow my world away. You stomp and you whine, you shuffle you're feet and attempt not to cry but you are irrisistably transparent.
You scream in my face with red anger. You release, you give up and walk away. You leave me, put me down, belittle me and still run back to your "safety zone" right in the fucking middle.
And the entire time I'm just trying to make you see these imaginary walls we have created. We don't talk, chat or hug. We don't play and laugh. We are as numb as the box around us. We are as pathetic as children ranting back and forth.
I'm tired. We are one when you kiss me. I give up.
I'm tired. We are one when you look me in the eyes. I melt.
I'm tired still yet we are one.

Art

The shadows and contours of their bodies, in the stream of light, through the window sill, illuminate their souls.
Early in this morning, the dawn just peeking through their senses creating a sensual rise and fall with each breath, with each thrust, with each passing heart beat.
This music surging through their muscles. Every invisible line on her delicate curves breathing with the wind.
Her hands raoming his back in passion, scratching with enthusiasm, giving in to a convulsive rhythm.
Biting softly the nape of her neck he lay, in the valleys he perfectly fit, creating an inseperable figure.

His jaw line, his lips tracing her collarbone time and time again. The etched solidity in his broad shoulders irradiating a mechanical movement, his hips lightly dancing with hers.

This intimacy, this song they sing could only become ritual when the sun rises and the world, for just one moment, is at peace.

Sex is art to me. I don't see it as perverted, or rude. I don't see "naked" people as naked, I see them pure.

And when it's true love I see music in their combined souls. Yes, I notice the gentle ways of a woman, the soft touch from their heart and their emotions written on their forehead. I notice their curves, their insecurities, and their eyes, how they tell a whole story in just a fleeting glance.

They create romance with men. They add an illusion of God's redeeming glow when they cry. They are beautiful to me.

And as for man I can't keep myself away from them. They are magnetic to our minds, they capture our trust, our hearts when they look at you with contempt.

When they cuddle with you and secure you safely. The lines in their physique, creating harmony with the way they move.

Their kiss, thier lips, their eyes encapsulate my being as if I ran my fingers down an original painting, touching the texture, scaling down the bumps and rough edges.

. And their hands are mesmirizing and safe. When a woman loves a man she lays her heart and soul in his hands. And when she surrenders her body to a man, in God's intended nature, you give up all else for that one peice of heaven, for that one serene afternoon
Many people through history, thousands of years, millions of different artists creating and ripping raw human emotion with one fleeting flick of a brush, camera, anguish, happiness, emotion, peice of themselves in every single bit of art that they have produced has been ridiculed, criticized, objected at some point and often unusually seen as outkast. As famous as Micheal Angelo and Picasso, and as simple as the setting sun, these people have captured the essence of love, lust, trust, creation, benevolence, and that special little redeeming glow. I'm not the only one who thinks it's art. And man.. Doesn't that feel wonderful?





I did my homework... In case you were challenging me.

Pictures in order of appearance;
1 - SUNRISE- http://mytowncolorado.ning.com/photo/photo/listForContributor?screenName=35t9f4n5981va
2- TWO WOMEN- Thomas Ruff: nudes ama14, 2000, C-Print
Thomas Ruff/DACS, London 2007/Galerie Nelson-Freeman, Paris

3- STRIPPER- Marlene Dumas: Stripper, 1999, Oil on canvas
Stephen White/Courtesy the artist and Frith Street Gallery, London


4- Eye- Nobuyoshi Araki: From Erotos, 1993, Gelatin silver print
Nobuyoshi Arak

5- Andy Warthol –
Andy Warhol: Blowjob , 1963, Black and white, silent, 41 minutes at 16 frames per second
The Andy Warhol Museum, Pittsburgh

6- Francis Bacon-Francis Bacon: Untitled (Two Figures in the Grass), c1952, oil on canvas
Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS, London 2007

7- Karma Sutra

8- Lady and Children-Luca Giordano: Venus, Mars, and the Forge of Vulcan c1660s
The National Gallery of Ireland

9- Japanese Watercolor-Unknown Artist: Woman and man with oysters, Album of Japanese watercolours
V&A Images/Victoria and Albert Museum, London
10- http://www.utopian.50megs.com/custom2.html

11- Rembrandt van Rijn : Jupiter and Antiope, 1659, Dry point etching
Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge

12- Modern Tantra Sculpture found on google Search
13- Dirty Dancing picture
14- Pablo Picasso: Erotic Scene (known as La Douleur), 1900, Oil on canvas
1998 The Metropolitan Museum of Art/Succession Picasso/DACS, London 2007

15- Georgia O’Keefe- Red Canna, Georgia O’Keefe, 1923
University of Arizona Art Museum

My teeny violin

Monday, May 14, 2007
Does anyone else ever feel overwhelmed? I know that's a foolish question but it seems to me lately that I'm being attacked by all four corners of the globe. It must be sooo nice for celebrities to have all that money. I'm tired of being broke and poor. I'm tired of being uncomfortable.. I'm just tired of life. This sounds rediculous, I know, my little violin is out of tune but there isn't enough time or money in this world. I also understand that yes, I do live in America and my issues are minimal compared to others around the world and I should be ever so grateful, which I am, I can have my freedom and I can say what I want, I can shower and eat. I know. It's rediculous. I just wish I had enough money to at least be comfortabe. I work hard but I don't get any leisure. I need to just grow up and get on track damn it. I need to just do whatever I need to take care of myself instead of raising everyone around me.

Unconditional Love

Sunday, July 15, 2007
The fleeting thought of loosing my mother is indescribable. I couldn't go through it alone for sure. It's odd when people you love die. You remember everything about them. Their scent, their laugh, their smile, their memories, their touch. Your memories flood your brain because you secretly have an instantaneous fear of forgetting them like they just disappear. So you retaliate, you break down, you promise yourself and others that you'll drive safe but in reality, you'll never have that person back. It's selfish isn't it? The weight of guilt I felt when I entered the room where she lay was indescribable. One million thoughts were running through my head but the only one I kept repeating over and over again was I'm so sorry. Everybody has fights as friends where they might not talk to each other for a certain period of time, this one was drastic, the supposed "end to our friendship". How selfish was I that death had to inervene? When I hugged her I did not feel anything. I couldn't remember why we weren't talking in the first place and for one moment in time, I felt relieved. I missed her. These moments are when you need the people you love around you unconditionally and unyeilding to the past. You need good hugs, you need to cry and talk about it. You need to let it out and you need support. You become weak when there's a hole in your heart. Death doesn 't happen to people you're close to on a regular basis, if it does I'm so sorry. There are exceptions in life. There are no exceptions for anger or grudges and stupid disagreements. There is no room for anything but unconditional love and forgiveness. I am doing what's right. What my heart feels and nothing will change my mind. I loved her so much and I love their family too.

I Will Rise

I'm stuck in a body that's possessed
by all it's worldly ungratefulness.
I have way too many necessities
that don't compare to my iniquities.
I don't deserve your retribution
for my non-existant contribution
to the population of immortalization.
If you think for one miniscule moment in time
that I will not survive
you should consider yourself insufficient
for judging my coherent decisions.
I will rise and carry my cross
blood dripping and lost,
suffering, strong and belligerent,
a hero ever precedent.
Don't pity me, don't scoff what you can't take
and please, don't forget my souls at stake.

I will rise and look you in the eyes
and remind you of my slow demise.

It was me hanging there that day.
It should have been my hands and feet where He lay.














IMAGE HOSTS;http://www.vuze.com/details/SNH3PUW5IH7KAMDKV63BXN3PCCSGBFGL.html?a=SALL&cat=X&ch=X&cs=X&ct=X&page=Scontent%2FDetails&pb=X&pg=1&pr=X&s=S&st=SAZHOT&t=X&vt=X
http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/02/21/1077072898528.html
http://www.contactmusic.com/new/film.nsf/reviews/passionchrist
http://www.vagrantcafe.com/christiancinema/2004_03_08_archive.htm

Mothers be good to your daughters. Daughters will love like you do.

im growing into a woman now. things are always changing from my taste buds to my hips. my perogative and my maturity have greatly increased to young adult. my priorities are re-arranging and im trying so hard to take the steps in life to do well, succeed and not only take care of myself but respect myself. and the people around me. all i ask from the ones i love, not from money or worldly possessions, is respect and honesty... does that seem too much? i will never gain respect with my mother and that kills me the most.. she's suppose to be stern yet graceful when i need help or advice.. shes suppose to smile when she talks to me, and not seem so bothered to hear my voice. she needs to love me again..she's suppose to be my mom, that one person in the world i can always love, i can always turn to, i can have always.. no one can replace your mother.. i've lost her trust in a lot of ways since highschool.. i've done so many things i'm not proud of but i can never take it back and they have become part of who i am.. i wouldn't trade all my bad experiences for any good ones otherwise i wouldn 't know what good really was.. i wouldn't appreciate something that was the same all the time.. i cant say im sorry to her anymore than by changing, growing and learning from my mistakes... one of them is how i speak to and with her.. i've been dilligently trying to refrain from using swears when im upset or raising my voice.. but she continues for months now to cuss me out, to make me feel like shit as a human being.. and when i bring it to her attention that i wont tolerate how she talks to me or even if i say it rationally, "I'm not yelling or cussing at you please stop" or nicely "I would really appreciate it if you could please talk and communicate with me better because i'm trying too" she flips out either way.. it's bogus.. this is the last straw tonight. she is so bitter i cant take it anymore.. i've done nothing but continually change myself for the better for her and in the meantime take care of me for once.. and when i stand up for myself.. when i say anything.. she denies it.she never does anything wrong. she says i'm going to give her a heart attack in her sleep because i always send her to bed upset.. does she know how much that hurts since Connie just passed away in her sleep from a heart attack? does she know how much i love her?that i couldn't live without her? what have i done as a daughter? what have i done as a human being? what have i done that is this bad? then on her way up the stairs she says something about bringing me into this world.. im not sure what she said completely but in the muttering words it hurt my feelings.. im sorry you regret me.. she says "yeah you've got a new job fuck your mother. go ahead and move out on me its what you're waiting for" and her voice trails into her room with a "little shit" after it while the door slams.. i yelled back " i was planning on giving you money when i get my first check and once a week after that! you are so mean!"i'm sorry i've been such a neusance.. such an obligation.. such a waste of space.. i'm sorry i've lost your trust and your respect.. i'm sorry i'm not good enoughi'm sorry i'm sorry im alive

Come Hither My Serendipity

Have you ever sat at the edge of the ocean when the tide is coming in and out, letting the waves tickle your feet just when it's cold enough to see your own breath? The chill from the water, however painful, is so refreshing in the white light from the moon, reminding you what warmth was for as it crashes your senses into a catapault of guilt. For these simple things are unjust and forgotten along the horizon of every setting sun and road to every city. Majenta sways through the sky and releases all your fears and for once, for just one moment you are in love with the world all over again and you can breathe fresh air.
People wonder why I like the beach in fall. This is the only explanation I could muster because the water leaves me speechless. When the world never ends on the line of colors at dusk, it makes me feel so small. It reminds me of who I am and this powerful force of nature gives me peace with God. I won't find serenity in a four white walled room.Where time is endless I remain calm and if for one moment I could find peace with myself anywhere else I would admit the possibilities but have yet to find something as intimidating as the waves magnetism to my needs. Maybe someday someone will prove me wrong with love and a little piece of heaven on earth.
It makes me independent from any mankind and vulnerable to tears when no one is looking. It humbles my heart and lets my soul exhale yet it contradicts every thing about me that is subtle. It makes me want to stand and call the waves.I feel powerful to man and powerless to God. Come hither my serendipity.

I found these images on google search.

It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

How do I say goodbye to what we had?
The good times that made us laugh Outweighed the bad.
I thought we'd get to see forever But forever's gone away
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

I don't know where this road
Is going to lead.
All I know is where we've been
And what we've been through
If we get to see tomorrow
I hope it's worth the wait
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

And I'll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday
And I'll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

I imagined growing up together, becoming young adults and getting together for coffee when the kids were off at school. I imagined barbecues, beach days and planned holiday vacations together. I imagined borrowing sugar for cookies and staying up far later than we should playing cards and drinking ourselves foolish after a stressful night at work. I imagined Sunday afternoons relaxing on the porch while the guys played football and we remodeled our kitchens. I imagined our children growing up together like we did, having that security, having friends to grow up with is one of life's luckiest treasure's, and without you along the way I might not have grown at all.
The ten year old side of me imagined growing old together and telling stories of "remember when" and getting to do all those cool things our parents seemed to do.
I guess I just imagined. Yesterday has come and gone and here we are on different zip codes, balancing on heavy broken hearts. This is when we make the biggest decisions of our lives. This is when we are setting in stone the people we have become. This is when I need all of you the most and the least. And change can be good and it may be hurtful. How do I say goodbye to what we had? The good times that made us laugh out weighed the bad.
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday. I can't believe life has come to this. What happened? If we get to see tomorrow knowing what we would know in twenty years, would we even say goodbye? For one moment we came together, we loved each other and unfortunately the only thing that made us appreciate life was death but that has even faded apparently for some and just like the seasons change and the earth breathes again, we will come and go. I want to enjoy the time I have here on earth. And in one simple breath I take in the memories we've had. All I know is where we've been and what we've been through. If we get to see tomorrow I hope it's worth all the wait. It's so hard to say goodbye. You have been my sunshine after the rain for many years but now you're creating a storm inside my soul. All the fighting has to stop. Life is too short and no one knows where forever went but it passed us already. If anger and hatred is all you can hold in your heart then I am truly sorry for you but I don't want that surrounding my life. At the end of today I may be judged by you and your opinions strike me outstanding. But in all reality it's none the loss for I have gained so many good moments, memories and experiences I wouldn't trade for the world.
I love the people I love unconditionally. That means them. That means you too. And if for one moment in time you could pause and appreciate life, I hope perhaps you'll learn what forgiveness, love and patience is for. And if you're going to hide behind anger instead of grow old with each level in life together, you can hide alone, but I'm going to continue to grow old with the people I love and I'm willing to sacrifice my reputation for that simple serene Sunday afternoon.

There once lived a crazy man

Saturday, November 17, 2007
So once lived a crazy man in a little hut. He drew his curtains once a day for offerings (mostly herbs and drinks of illusion) and made nice with the people in his village. Not long after dark his shades drew. Some stayed in temperment to the wild man to come and some left in aggravation from his howls and clenching fists. Night after night, illusion after illusion he slowly became a monster to his people. Performing odd ceremonies of debree and dirt. Dumping and rubbing the remnants of their dinner on the ground with his feet only loosing balance when his garments began to fall. Screaming in his stupor, reaching the mammal within, he beat his breasts and howled to the females but one femme was outkast from the rest. He targeted her in disgust, rubbing the remnants on her cave floor and stomping through all hours of the night banging the sides of her home. She was sorry at first. She liked him in the day but at night he was immortal. And so her fear grew into disgust as she sat in a huddle on the cold floor. Bang. Bang. Bang. Her mind racing, her eyes spotted a club for cleaning the fur. She reached for it in time for him to bellow through her ears. One strike to his right side and he dropped, unyeilding to gravity, smack. The heartbeat that once taunted her finally seased and her mind was clear. She dragged him in and roasted his remains all night. His skin she beat into a bag for sticks. For many moons the village ate well.

Little thoughts scribbled on bar napkins travel far

Saturday, February 09, 2008
I always start writing and I never finish. It's like a million little parts of me flake off into this brilliant little paragraph or scribble, jotted down on a napkin, trailing my entire story all over because I can never collect all the peices in order or sometimes it's like a peice of toilet paper on the soul of my shoe and it gets passed by nosy people from step to step, still unnoticed, until it ends up thousands of miles away in some other gas station bathroom, that some other junkie blew lines on the same sink I did on a roadtrip once upon a time.



My life is a little odd. I leave peices of my heart all over the place. I leave my story behind, with no beginning, middle or end and it's like I let people decifer what happens in the end. I sit down and write about something in the moment, but honestly I have no idea how to put it all together, how to create a conclusion, an answer, something to learn from. The people I meet who trace in and out of the scene or the just the night many times make up some of the most wonderful adventures I've ever been so pleased to partake. They call me unorganized and they can call me a mess but this is my story, not theirs, so it's entitled to be unique. I never thought before about my little scribbles affecting anyone else, until I was the one stooping to the sink and found a wrinkled, scribbled on restaurant style napkin facing up at me with my hand writing and a bunch of doodles. At first I couldn't believe it. I thought I was just tripping, maybe something was in my stash that was making me messed up. I washed my face and hands. I rubbed my eyes and wanted to think it was unreal, I glanced again and still it haunted me, dirty and unyeilding to my emotions raw on the floor. I stepped out the bathroom only to find myself run back in and read it. I sat crying on the floor for ten minutes on my knees because what I had written was like an omen to myself in the future. I had found myelf here lost, a different person than when I doodled that stupid napkin. I couldn't recognize the person pulling back my own hair when I puked or got a bloody nose in front of the mirror. My hands were now foreign and kept feeding my face things, like they were in control, not me anymore, just my natural reaction to get through the day. But this time, when I looked at my hands, my hands trembling with this little off white, rugged, ripped, torn and blurry peice of mind, all I saw left there was 1 Corinthians 10:13 - God provides the means to handle any temptation or problem in life. You do not need to escape reality by means of drugs. You can avoid drugs and find your needs met in Jesus.
Literal passage is: There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God [is] faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.
Isn't it funny how life takes it's turn, in little rugged footprints and peices of paper. The likelihood of me finding that paper in one million years where I had been was so unusual, but there it was, bold in my own hand writing, staring me in the face was God himself. People say he doesn't exhist. Have you ever ripped a peice of napkin or gotten it wet? You tell me if it's suppose to travel thousands of miles for years and find you here at the most convenient moment in time, just when you need it the most. If that's not God I have no idea what is.When I found this paper I was flying high with my drug experience. I was on top of the world until I saw it. So yeah, my life has changed and I've cleaned up a lot. It's been a long time since I've touched anything white,yellow,purple,brown, gooey, snortable or in tab form so I consider myself doing really well so I thought.I've been lying to myself for a while. Telling myself I'm clean because I don't do harsh drugs, I have subjected myself to just weed and to most people who have a tainted idea of what real drugs are, they'd laugh I consider weed a drug at all. In all reality, I'm not clean yet. I quit smoking cigarettes. Now it's time to really clean up my act. No more weed, no more convincing myself and rationalizing. No more wasting my money to get high. I need to stop clinging onto getting high to make it through one more day. I need to clear my head and figure out who I am without drugs and maybe with God. If I sit and count, if I really think about it, other than maybe a week or two in between here and there for a job or some kind of hospitalization, I haven't truly been "clean" in every sense of the word, even drinking heavy since I was 13 years old. I started drinking then and rarely smoking weed. Can't i atleast try for a little while? If it's not such a big deal, why has it taken me 8 years to figure out I have a problem?

One Moment. Would you capture it or just let it slip?

Sunday, February 17, 2008
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment You own it, you better never let it go You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
The soul's escaping, through this hole that it's gaping This world is mine for the taking
Feet fail me not cuz this maybe the only opportunity that I got. I wanna keep walking. One more step towards freedom. But this is not quick enough so I start to jog away from my issues but really I'm running just to find more. I speed up, my feet hurt, I've been pushing myself. The cold, wet pavement under my feet and steam escaping my every breath. I huff in and out to catch up with myself. My heart is screaming, my pulse is surging, my veins are contracting with every step, with every stretch and every mile ahead. I push myself. Come on looser. Do something about it. Failure. You fucking disgust me. One more fucking step. One more hard patter on the tar. One more heartbeat. I need to run. I need to breathe. I need to hear my heartbeat consistently. I can't stay here. Death is not an option. I run away. I have completed my urge to win. I give up on you. I have lost more than faith, my deductible reasoning, one by one it all blurs into one negative farce. How many seconds, minutes, steps, moments,days, months, years,decades or lifetimes will we pass in this? How many human beings out there give a fuck? How long? Just sign the damned papers people.

I'm me can you dig it?

Wednesday, February 20, 2008
It just so happens I do not sleep with everything walking by. I happen to go on good connection. The amount or number, the classification, gender or the abnormality of me becoming intimate with someone is no one's business in all reality. I don't see a naked woman or a naked man. I don't think of myself getting the groove on. I just go with feelings and touch, moments of tension and lust, perhaps chemistry has something slightly to do with it, soul and love, peace and emotion, rhythm and vibe... Not this label bullshit. Ok so I'm a looser. I'm whatever you wanna call me. I'm a bitch. I'm a lover. I'm a child. I'm a mother. I'm a sinner. I'm a saint. I do not feel ashamed. I'm your hell. I'm your dream. I'm nothing in between. You know you wouldn't want it any other way. I'm an asshole and a cunt.I'm a jerk and a dyke. I'm a gypsy and a Goddess. I'm a wifey and a jock. I'm a woman and an educated voter. I'm a giver and a soul. I'm a face and a name. I'm a shopper and a shoe fanatic. I'm an artist and a coorporate geek. I'm a crazy bitch and an intelligent creature. I'm a smartass and a polite lady. I'm a freak and a hippy. I'm French and Native American. I'm stupid and adventurous. I'm colorful and thriving. I'm thristy for individuality and a couch potato. I'm good for nothing and I am on top of the world and can do anything! I'm some guys girlfriend and a drunk. I'm a pothead and a "druggie".haha right on people.. I'm a theif and a hard worker. I'm a beach bum and a city girl. I'm a country bumkin and a street J-walker. I'm an amazing friend and I suck at calling you back. I'm an amazing daughter and I always forget to come home. I'm such an amazing student and I'm also a great teacher but I've forgotten how to learn. I'm a breathing organism and a homo-sapien. I'm an angel and a conniving twit. I hate myself and I love myself. I'm a goodie too shoes and a rebel with a heart. I'm English and German mixed perhaps with some Irish, Italian and European influences. I'm a poser and a leader. I'm a friend and an enemy. I'm a lover most of all. I'm a giver above all. I'm a heart with no super glue and a mind with too many questions.

I'm a self esteem that is broken by your words. I'm a human being who isn't capable of trusting herself because I'm everything you want me to be. I am whatever you say I am. If I wasn't, then why would you say I am? So here it is. Laid out on the table. Right in front of you. All my thoughts.We're all a geek, a basket case, an athlete, a princess, and a criminal.You can label me all you want and assume. I figure if I say the worst even if it's not true I won't be shocked when you come out with more hurtful words against the wonderful woman I have worked so hard to become. At least I'm me. I'm not pretending to be anyone else for anyone else. I'm not labelling myself to get attention and people love me out there for whoever and whatever I am. Thank you for that my friends, my family. So I may face God someday myself but that is between me and God. He likes it when I swear and he thinks I'm funny.
~There's only one true judge and that's God, so chill, and let my father do His job~ Salt & Peppa

Dawn

Thursday, May 15, 2008
You've been running through my mind, in the sunlight of the dawn, tracing your bare back, I want to find you, be close to you. If only in a dream, silent and upspoken when the world does not exist, I would run with you.