Riding in the car ( Read more... )

They're all just ways of saying the same thing. Different ordering of words. Switching adjectives and nouns until it sounds harmless. This morning I had run out of ways to tell it. Ways to say what it is I am really feeling. Easier, less effective with the things I let slide. Very fond of. Like quite a bit. Enjoy company. IT's true, love ( Read more... )

lost.

she got lost somewhere along the way.

Sing Me Something New ( Read more... )

sleep has evaded me for days. I found you this morning underneath the covers and crawled back and there we were sleeping together like old friends do. You made me late for work. I called to tell them. I slept all day instead. I think I've fallen again. Becareful of that. There it was underneath the pillow. A dime. A nickel. A quarter piece of sleep ( Read more... )

Come up to my motel room and... sleep with me

Come up to my hotel room and save my life...

So I'm drunk
i broke my door

i am wearing nothing but a scarf and underwear and a tanktop

and I absolutely adore my friends.

This is a lame post

i am lame tonight.

I love!
I LOVE!

Sometimes I feel like I'm never going to break free.
I've been thinking a lot about dishonesty.
A lot about the wayt hings come around full circle.
Things that I say without ever thinking. What comes out of my mouth that seems so relevant later.

"My life is constantly full of coincidence and accidental divulging of secrets."


( Read more... )

She sits and waits for the words to come to her. Writing until her fingers turn numb. Swollen. Swollen. Body swollen. Heart swollen. Eyes swollen. Fingers swollen. Words freeze at the tips of her fingers and she sits. Waiting.

He writes from far away.
He writes from across the sea.
He writes: It was never meant to be this way. I never meant to ( Read more... )

Lost Notes To Someones Self:

Why do I keep returning to this? This horrible car wreck. This moment in time, frozen forever. A gravestone. A mile marker. Something I will never get past. A constant reminder kept around so as to always remember: "I fucked up". I want to feel your hands. Strange, I want to touch your skin and feel home again. ( Read more... )

This is basically my past year or so in photo form

minus the times when you know we were all so... exhausted
drunk
spun out

to record anything.

http://s178.photobucket.com/albums/w265/devinthebroad/

A personal favorite?


( Read more... )