

Nothing is for, or About YouNothing is for, or about you. Behind those words, regardless of the plastic, the wires and the miles between my lips and her ears, is so much fight that Im almost starting to believe myself. Ive repeated them so many times, its beginning to make me feel sick. Ive forgotten who Im trying to convince.Nothing is for, or About You
I hear her lips pry themselves from one another, like a band-aid being torn from an open wound. She stops herself, but I know what she wants to say. She's aware of that. Some things are just better left unsaid. Some things have to be said. Neither of us have figured out which either of those a


OceanicShe lay there, between the rickety bedposts. The low light made the room feel like a sleazy motel but still, her eyes were oceanic; large, blue and empty. They were all over me. Her delicate fingers took turns in between her lips and her legs as I drew nearer to her. "You're still young", she began, "you'll find what it is you're looking for", as she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled herself against me. Her lips were on me, mine all over her, across fragile, paper-white skin, interrupted violently by the scars left by something more tragic than anything I could probably ever know. The photos from her childhood broke my heart. She wasOceanic
I just took a look at your stuff as well, you're excellent at photographing live music! If ever you come to Montreal, you should take some shots of my band. Or if we ever get down into the States.
and Thanks!! I would def. shoot your band.
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Crazy Polish Women freak me the hell out.
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