We all need a dancing baby Groot on our dash to lift our spirits
There are few things more glorious than a friend’s sketchbook.
Took the train to San Francisco yesterday and took some shots of pretty things I saw
tie me up, blindfold me, and have your way with me
I haven’t seen you in two months. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you it was a cacophony of blame, an explosive interactions where both sides were ashamed. I wouldn’t back down then. That night. You stared at me with disdain. It would’ve been okay except it was a look of an estranged brother and sister. Lover and loved one. I couldn’t bear that you couldn’t bare the sight of me. That we couldn’t bare our souls to each other. That even though I stood their naked in front of you, it seemed like you hadn’t seen my naked body before. I abhore the thought of you, I claim you were the biggest mistake that I have ever made. Maybe it was the conscious decision to lose apart of me in order to hold on to all of you. So now that time has seperated us for a whole season. Will I look right through you like a repressed memory of childhood bullying or the fights of my parents as a kid. Or will I shake your hand for making me the man I am today