Perspective

Fleeting, fleeting, fleeting, fleeting,
there's no fishing line that will keep you from reeling,
nothing to hold that won’t sand slip through fingers,
nothing quite absent and nothing quite lingers

My feet are in Egypt and ears are in Greenland,
my knee at the 3 and my head at the 12-hand,
when it’s twilight and dawn, Eden and world’s end,
( Read more... )

I'm so sorry our friendship ended. I didn't understand it and I didn't want that to happen. I still like you, and respect you, and care about you. I hope you knew ( Read more... )

I think I will let this journal die now.

Anyway, as the drunken Trevor would say - "...tell me when I stop talking."