and i'll sit here on the phone with you,
listening to your broken thoughts and hidden dreams
weaving a broken tune
and notice the dirt under my fingernails,
creating a ragged line between what's real and
what's fine
and push back a time for cleaning in hopes of
catching one of your breaths of truth
and absorbing its warmth between my palms.

Just had an out of the blue memory of how I used to piggy-back ride on my dad's back, and when my legs got a little bit longer I would stick them inside his pant pockets, and how the fabric inside of the pockets always felt so, so soft.

firing the grid ( Read more... )

 this journal is here to hold all my random thoughts, motives, ideas, and writings.
feel free to friend me, the more the merrier.

have a wonderful day (: