

Photo shoot.Photo shoot
There is no proof of this one— no proofs or prints at all. Just hearsay, overheard in hallways, scratched on crumpled bits of paper torn from notebooks, tossed casually aside.
Sunday mornings go unwitnessed at small liberal arts colleges. 7 am, flannel sheets, wool blankets, hard nipples and oatmeal box cameras: what myths are made of.
When cold concrete and metal— cinder block boxes topped off with tin foil— kiss flesh, there are repercussions: goosebumps and blue fingers and every two or three minutes a rush fo


+ tracing mary . i--+ tracing mary . i
I could never quite fathom why the wind seemed to escape her
as my fingers froze.
maybe
it was because she never thought as deep or walked as far
but
she loved me all the same.
sitting upright, crumpled between her too-many-leather-jackets closets and jump-rope afternoons
it was all she knew.
egging me on egging me on
to make my own crazy household and to &


.thought to consider...thought to consider.
maybe something more than that something sacred something where I want to be.
something stained glass and glowing midafternoon that not-quite-springtime-I’m-still-waiting improvising prayers aloud.
There’s something Biblical in all of this (remembering John 3:16 and bare backs bearing mud-crosses, that purposeful dishevelment. I might have wanted that morning-after-look the night before.) something mystical and miracle-seeking
--
_//LEMONTEA||MORE.ADDICTIVE.THAN.HEROIN_+''
[link]
--
We're all pawns, my dear.
GO HERE ----> [link]
--
less talk more rokk
--
speak the words i wanna hear, to make my demons run
i heart white noise!
--
make money from home
--
We're all pawns, my dear.
GO HERE ----> [link]
--
download mozart
--
We're all pawns, my dear.
GO HERE ----> [link]
--
Gelinlik
Previous Page12345...Next Page