Knuckles plump with the caress of brick and mortar. Vacant motel room feelings, things pass through with no regard of that through which they pass. Remaining only the scent of those who passed before, alone and waiting. To those who know so much of what is and what is best I say, "You know not." Intentions, ideas, friends are hurt when they stop & forget. I wish I could forget to hurt....
ryotgirl:
Awe, you have a sleeve by Martin? I love him, he did 5 of my tattoos. And sean is the best little Jewish bastard I know!
india:
i know how you feel.