Tuesday, May 19, 2009

no hands are half as gentle or firm as they'd like to be

thank god you see me the way you do, strange as you are to me

the time we drove all night.
(columbia, south carolina) 

(mississippi riverside from the french market, bourbon street: new orleans, LA)
my heart is full of missings of us driving across the states.

these are your and your and your colors i saw in my brainwaves. 
i'd fill up my lungs with pigments as bright as these.

No comments:

Post a Comment