the finger you've known touch the ashes and the keys turn the motion with a function and the keeping, glass, and the broken almost moldy who would want to find you, in your worn out silver bus that used to be a cafeteria that never made no money i thought i had, what the wind on the beach means to L...

Hello, I'm a stranger, logged in an old name with epurcelly.

I like much a painting i saw of Jack B. Yeats - Brother of William
in an old irish bar in san fransisco
it was heavy with abstract paint then scraped away to form the woman on the bridge

Besides, something

Indeed ~ we are on our way, my friends and I. Thank you all for sharing your resonance and posting reviews ~ we feel it out here on the road, exciting our blood. Much Love ~~~~

with this woman so long but not even with her is what's so pathetic our best friend died between us a good ol' guy, the best Our sex fell in, fucking, a minute just when I'd figured it off, her body, but it's been... tonight I should have said, "there's plenty of time to get laid and still slee...

Thank You for the warm welcome lizzytysh
Perhaps, she is only blind if she does not feel the reception, the greeting delight in our eyes ~ reflecting ~ the bell between ~ ~ that words and voice and voice resonate
~ ~ ~

perhaps the earth's hunch is what the hell is in store a dam alights Moody Pond In pictures, In the sky. it's a long-toned, sorta lectro-magnet- it's a war on we're having a war perhaps the earth's hunch is what the hell'sin store and the thick and the whirl are turned inside out horrors within frag...

... of your voice ~ ~ ~ ~

The part of my touch
that I can not feel
is my pressure,
my tenderness
as I reach for your soft shoulder.
You turn to me and
look at me,
in that way you can not see,
and say,
'How are you? We haven't kept in touch."
And I hear the sincerity in your voice.