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Sometimes color is a feeling
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Your words can't contain me or you
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Moving forward is a kind of moving on
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We spend our lives trapped in tiny boxes
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Daylight was a kind of prayer to him
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He was trapped in his geometries
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My soul's full even though my soles are bare
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What I didn't do is all I have left
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If you listen to me I have things I can tell you
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Homes don't feel like home to me, he said to me
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This town takes me up and brings me down
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Halfway through hanging the #weloveatl gallery show at Young Blood Gallery with @the_atl_aaron, @keithweaver, @tmox and other great volunteers. The prints from @postalpix are looking fantastic on the wall! Come to the show at 7pm tomorrow. It should be a
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The street spins colors for you and for me
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This morning the city was ripping him apart
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I am plastic but you are paper
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I put up with a lot for you, you know
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There was no way but a way out
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I am a house of straw made of brick
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All I want, she said, is to come clean again
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Just another quiet afternoon in Woodbury #walkingdead
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All we are is back and forth
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We stack our discarded dreams on street corners
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Stand up with me and be counted
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Every day was a concrete ballet
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She knows the world don't wait for her
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Are we all small or is our world too big
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I'm never alone, even when I am
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Nature is what's around us
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Sometimes the sun was his sustinance
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I can read you like this book, he said to me
