| I'm a painter, a writer, a hardship, a question, a mother, that one thing that you can't put your finger on, and nothing you could ever expect all in a size 7.5 shoe. |


Pretty PoppiesYour eyes are like tiny opalescent dew drops that lavish me with a veil of juniper berried orange peel poppies... And a scent that went straight to the head. (You always were around to suffocate in your sle e p l i k e T H I S . )Pretty Poppies
And if my bone pledged memorabilia serves me right, I'd write and write and w


Whale SongsI get her letters in the morning walking out on soaked cement barefoot and placing hand in box staring down the road stop lights clicking rhythm talking 'bout My Generation reading letter as I walk back in the house - she listened to the Who taking the 395 through deserts to the bay, in the morning as the sun was rising stumbled into work with matted hair red eyes squinted, shapes from clay, cliche song and rhyme - she'd have rhymed the Enola Gay, while screaming punk rock anarchy we're drinking Irish whisky round the table while the family sWhale Songs
juicy girl
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'take only memories; leave only footprints.'
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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Two things are infinite: the Universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the Universe ( Albert Einstein )
something that desrves to be visited [link]
my gallery
[link]
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Solve for x.
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