"tectonics" poems
you are inches
measured by miles away
bulldozing oriental food
you don't intend on eating
around your plate
and i am imagining
the translation of asking
for a broom in a foreign language
for when you shatter over small talk
or the first sentence to start with "so"
breaks you into shaking
that i can feel from across the table
and i am thinking now
about tectonics and how you must be daydreaming of being submerged in a book
back home or gripping tightly
to bedsheets begging for familiar warmth
i can tell by the way you are looking at me
that you are feigning our salutation embrace
seconds drowned in ankle deep water and i wonder if you see my hands
as jackhammers and if the reason
why you hug so hard
but only for a moment
is to be as sharp as possible
so that i do not smell your perfume
or notice that you aren't wearing any and why
there are few suprises
in the safe you claim is a mouth
where shades of plush pink
hide a sickly pallor
and i continue to look over
brick & mortar borders
and think how maybe
she is thinking of kissing
but certainly not me
not these apologies nailed to my face
i give myself a moment
of benefitted doubt that you sometimes
picture your frame under mine
and if your clavicles would crack
if i were to touch them
i am sorry that i am a victim of imagination
but i swear i chalk it up
as the forgotten feeling
for when you look up
and the person you are looking
at is gazing directly at you
you have painted yourself
as a mosaic in my mind
as a mess of dust & incoherent words
that all sound like please in my ears
but that doesn't explain why
my hands are the ones that are shaking
when i imagine you
imagining me
in the spaces of yourself
where you've forgotten
you could put someone
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
Renaissance Man
mathematician, painter and poet
a genius of an engineer
I wish I could have met the man
or even better if he were here
I would follow him everywhere
absorbing as much as I could
trying to collect his brilliance in a jar
you know most surely I would
his curiosity and imagination
equaled by few mortals ever known
his feats of undeniable skills
his seeds of desire forever grown
the anatomical research he started
unequaled technological ingenuity
the beautiful Mona Lisa's face
the Last Supper reflects his ASSIDUITY
the creator of simple bobbin winder
the theory of plate tectonics
solar power and hydrodynamics too
his thoughts on moving robotics
yes he was a marvelous genius
his love of life will live on forever
sharing his unending reaching mind
we can marvel at this man together
Gomer LePoet ....
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
I loved you so much my heartbeat shook the heavens,
how dare you tell me I didn't love you hard enough?
This was supposed to be that soft love.
The kind that caresses your face like a light breeze.
It was enough to shake your soul
like it was rocking you to sleep.
I wanted it to soothe you
and leave you breathless
all in the same moment.
I wanted it to be as fierce as an earthquake
that shifts all of the plate tectonics back into place
as if it were fixing a puzzle.
I wanted it to be as loud as a pin drop
in a dead silent room.
I wanted silence with you.
I wanted the screams to echo through your mind
like I was standing in the middle of
mountains and valleys
yelling to God all of the love stories
I wrote about you.
I wanted you to listen with your eyes closed
and your mouth open.
I wanted to feed you gentleness on a silver spoon.
I wanted to love you.
I wanted to be enough.
But your eyes were always as big as flying saucers,
and your heart only ever the size of a needle hole.
My love was never meant for you.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
An irrefutable dream,
fulfilled tenfold in the illusion
made imperfect by dreamers' oblivion,
sought by the delver of selves.
Rejection of messengers,
the hive of deluded apathy
that saturates the air thick with the droning of silent hesitation
hexagonal compartmentalization,
sundering your cedar carapace,
which cancerous excess shatters,
and only cracks remain;
the afterthoughts of paradise
and undiscovered paths of depression,
an anxious exodus of life-force.
Part thine red sea,
lest plate tectonics make waves,
that cause molecules of hemoglobin to disperse in light,
the crimson tears of a soul,
sweeter than the lips coveted.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC
If you ever get close
to the fork in a path,
wander through the tectonics
that diverged the road
in the first place.
Every pixel of your being
is animated. Even the unlit
trap doors leaving pockmarks
on your mind's landscape
possess colors with no name.
Who knew electronic and acoustic
were just estranged family all along?
GENRE is a manmade affectation--
music appreciation for Jingoists.
If they feed you a raindrop,
swallow the entire ocean.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Bend at the waist
be a doll, doll,
dance your *** down
this way, my way
into sentiment, burning
images onto the brain
you can't get away.
Bend babe, shake or
shiver as you please
let lethargy melt into
unkempt smiles, deep
dimples of face-skin
softened in sweet sun ray.
All the people in the street.
Where are they going, and
what does that mean in the
end-times, the ever-present hour
of a dying world's last breaths,
here for sole reason of shepherding
the sheep, because you're a wolf
are you not?
Miles above the weeping masses,
holding it together with barely
a grip to give name; coping
they call it, accepting reality as
objective, something separate from
myself.
I imagine the world as a bubble
and I hold the pin-needle, too close
to body to alarm and too close
to bubble to bat away, bend
please, bend at wrist for sake of
sanity, bury yourself neck-deep in
chance. Bend babe,
bend away.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 10:10 AM UTC
The rebar skeleton of a hymn
Celestial rust sifting in
Skin and its architecture
Oh, the tectonics of Sin
Thrush lashed to husks
Lungs dipped with resin
Wine with gall, the Synoptic gospels
Recolored lithographs and
Rhymes of tinsel cord
Lost palaces of Tangiers
The Late Cretaceous fossils
Vibrate with fear.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 10:59 AM UTC
*** with you
is a workout.
Quick breaths and heavy heartbeats.
I love your sweat
and the way it makes your skin
stick to mine.
*** with you is a hurricane
violent winds strong enough
I’d blow away if I didn’t
grip the anchor of your hips.
I count seconds between
the lightning in your smile
and the thunder of your heartbeat
to know how close you are.
It is neuroscience.
Can you see the action potential
jump up the dendrites of my fingers
when I touch you?
It is a fistfight
it might end with
bruises and ****** lips
but it’s worth it for the adrenaline rush
behind the upper cut.
Later I can’t stop tonguing
the cut on the inside of my mouth.
I like the way you sting.
*** with you is a
wrinkle in time.
It’s the bottom of the ninth
2 outs, bases loaded
and time. just. stops.
It’s a SWAT team’s
flash bang.
The explosion leaves me dazed,
and I can’t hear anything but my pulse.
It’s any number of drugs.
Your tongue
tastes like moonshine
My body swirls
and my mouth rounds hollow
around the smoke in your kisses.
*** with you is
using all seven tiles in Scrabble
and landing on a triple word score.
For a moment,
I am invincible.
It is plate tectonics.
My body dips into the magma
of the negative space between your hips,
my favorite subduction zone.
*** with you is a math problem
It’s complicated and
it takes patience
but there’s not a word for the
satisfaction when my fingers
draw the last equal sign
and the red pen of your body
is silenced.
*** with you is like
sparklers.
I want to write our names in fire.
May 11, 2011
May 11, 2011 at 1:03 AM UTC
In this age of 3D Entertainment
and surround sound speakers;
of high definition and films extra features,
electronic mail and internet dating.
Where tectonics fail yet can be shown on
paper graphs and charts and diagram art.
These decades of speed and cynicism.
Where digits reign as idols flop
from pedestals and into bars.
Where your wildest dreams lie not
in your heart but in your favourite shop.
In this land of greed and want
and discord of the highest scale.
Is it peace and virtue that won
you the right to work from home;
eating breakfast in bed, worrying
only if jokes are stale?
Is it fine that your success
has led others to fail?
In this game of snakes and ladders
who populates the pit?
Those who were unfortunate
enough to be born into it.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
*If God was real
He'd let me die-
Too much suffering
In this tiresome life.
He'd know the thrill
Is not worth the strife,
And all the heavy
Outweighs the light.
If I could feel,
Then I could try.
All the emptiness and sorrow
Would simply all subside.
If I could crawl out from the darkness
And beg for acceptance in light-
Maybe if I weren't so numb I might.
Hollow is this whole wide world,
Filled with greed and hate-
Crumbling around me
And they blame it on the plates.
Power and destruction-
I can't come to appreciate
What we have done...
To this place.
I am born of burdens,
I was born too late.
Missed my chance
So the devil danced me
To my fallen fate.
Held captive to damnation,
I will waste my life away.
Wondering- is this a dream?
And when will I
When will I, when will I
Wake??
Hollow is this heavy heart
That beats for needless, just to bleed.
All this screaming on the inside
Raised the monster, raised the beast.
How can I strike it down without
Destroying me?
I was doomed to rule the darkness
Etched in stars- the destiny.
If there is a God out there, then tell me,
Where is his mercy?
So alone, and I'll die alone like this.
So alone, and I'll wear it on my wrists.
So alone, everyone leaves eventually.
All things must end, except the
Great infinity.
So numb! And I'll keep myself this way.
So numb! And I'll **** myself some day.
So numb! And I've nothin more to say.
Yes, this will end,
Make no mistake-
You too will ache.
Yes, it all ends,
Not hard to break-
You too will ache.*
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 1:50 AM UTC
How tectonics shift
As continents drift apart,
Oceans open up.
Now you, undeterred
Ascend the promontory,
Cross the esplanade.
Poised with honours,
You sidle the cliff edge path
Predator to prey.
Await your moment.
Swoop, gliding on the uplift,
Behind you a trail.
My mirth, invested in you
This day escapes me.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Every story I write
has a quiet boy who loves words
and a girl he doesn’t quite understand.
She has a laugh that ricochets
and she makes the quiet boy smile.
She looks like algebra but is more like calculus.
She is deceptively hard to solve.
You don’t see her fault lines until you think you already know her,
but her plate tectonics only cause aftershocks,
never full earthquakes.
I always thought she was me,
always thought I wanted to be
that kind of captivating.
Enough to make the quiet boy happy.
But then I met you
and your quarter moon smile.
I always thought the girl was from some coast
but the first time I saw you in a bikini
I realized you don’t have to be from California
to have drops of seawater glow like individual suns on your skin.
I want you to drip dry
on my clothesline arms.
I’ll hold you up to the sunlight,
let your bare legs dangle in the wind.
I want to straddle your fault lines
and hold you through the tremors.
I always thought I wanted the spotlight
but I’m content
being the quiet one beside you.
I thought I loved the boy who loved words
and I wanted to be enough to inspire him to write
but you make me want to get published just to share you
with the world because
something so beautiful should not be kept secret.
You said you wanted to make the history books
and you will, but for now
I hope my poems are enough.
You are rainy day inspiration.
I thought I was the girl
but it turns out I’m just a quiet boy
who needed someone to
inspire me.
May 11, 2011
May 11, 2011 at 1:06 AM UTC
I do not mourn long Mondays--
Wednesday is gone before I
blink back an astonished Tuesday, and
at twenty-four already
I see my mothers hands sliding
across the page
That same scrawl following tip
of the exigent pen
Nervous mind idly stroking
bitter torments
That which is aggravated swells
inflamed. Like a
canker sore deep in
the inner cheek
The tongue rolling and probing,
absorbed by each sour pain
Carefully plotting little volcanoes across
the slick terrain
They burst like purple pomegranates
pounding spattered cement
on mild fall evenings
So do people sometimes
Through tectonics of the brain
Those which could be minor psychological
blemishes roar to life. Shifting
vast emotional plates
behind a cool gaze
People hurl carelessness at on another
like schoolyard boys
chucking helpless frogs at
jagged stone walls
Ignorant of life's high price
And though horrified-- I
Can not look away.
Eyes bulging, blown out anuses spewing
pale intestines slick with blood-- I
can not look away.
Each giddy chimp, feces
Proudly flung-- I
do not look away.
My heart swollen hungering for
that emptiness called humanity
Mostly pretense, mostly solitude, mostly cruelty,
All personal gain!
Meanwhile, brothers and sisters,
have you considered the fate
of your everlasting soul?
I didn't think so
Glassy eyes stare
beseeching from bathroom mirrors
Tear-stained cheeks belie
a quizzical half-smile
I will meet that insecure gaze
promising to seek my own perfect
imperfection
No longer guilt ridden and ashamed
I will hold the reflected stare aloft
with my own true eyes
and I swear-- I
will not look away
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
All along the broken trees and bridges
Loom the heavy sins of man
Opulence pinches her curvy ridges
Nighttime is the right time
For easy forms of forgiveness
Here horn players blow out as they pass
Shouting sorrows at the moon
High notes vibe loose as Mrs. Cass
Lays down her weary knees
Folds her hands and prays
Coyote madness moves in shadow
Assassin pin striped and grey
Barroom is closed with nowhere to go
Sidewalk is splitting right under you
Birds sit stained by a moon light blue
Screeching southern gospel with tell tale Bill
High grass weave in a hot Autumn night
Bottle empty of those ****** sleeping pills
Eyes heavy from work on the trail
But my hearts heavy lookin' for bail
Make your way to the end block
Shoes broken eyes hung like satin
Stop sign sadness with a broken down clock
Time strikes a maddened midnight
She said every things gonna' be alright
Keys in the lock n' I'm so beat but I'll keep
My shoes are caked in mud
Doors ajar n' my dead end job won't start
Now and then feels like the present and past
All moments in time we grow to resent
In the star struck night Ill be dancing alone
Her skirt twirls yellow and gold
Grass beneath me buried calm cool bones
Death don't seem so bad sometimes
Death tastes just like an old bordeaux wine
When the wind picks up and makes you squint
And your back is bent sideways
Your soul feels spent and no ones gives you a hint
Hold your eyes to the ocean for waves
Come and most certainly go
Over each minute flashes ride through
Planets are forever unaligned
Nod of rotations push stars far past Pluto
A mash of slop soup tectonics
Brimming on the edge of robotics
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 5:17 AM UTC
An old man remembers what he has been
yet the details are unimportant. Then
the outline disappears, and the meaning.
Good, I can die or go to work, be wise
or a **** Rich or poor, the wind and rain
wear us away and it's o.k.
Ask what matters, that
question. Feeling the seasons, wearing a hat,
loving your woman, a good ****
Children born. Two cells meet, multiply,
spiral into fetus. The mother is amazed:
an intelligence apart from herself.
The violent rainstorm kept me awake
although the lightning was still far away.
I lay in my bed and listened naked.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
you've left a footprint
in my mind.
/
you've left behind
the traces of the past
the memories
and a concave
wave
/
leaving curvatures
creating
those permanent
steps
across the
expanse of
my brain
/
upon the
landscaped
planes
valleyed
peaks
/
and the blood
vessel'd tributaries
/
I felt you flowing
in my veins-
within me
/
without me
inside upstream
outside downstream.
/
the currents quiet. the tides subside.
/
you've left a footprint,
in my mind.
/
I think you'd be
impressed
with the old
pieces
Ive kept
/
it’s a residual
effect. this left
consistent motion.
similar to erosion
/
changing, rearranging-
kind of like continental
drift.
but sometimes
there wasn’t any motion
just slow motion
/
but some emotions
picked up on all
four seasons
/
breathing an air of cold winter.
once sinister,
brought pure laughter.
the sun luminescent mirroring my skin
came spring and summer
/
I spread
em’ wings
-to be the bird
I’d always wanted to be
/
peaceful.
unleashed.
free.
/
riding the air.
it's the best
feeling-
being alive
to be redefined, unconfined.
/
you've left a footprint
in my mind
/
I was too blind and
I’ll never
forget this
/
I just
felt the need
to disappear with
no dusted prints behind
though...
/
and so I crept out
the back
door slow.
/
because it didn't
feel like those
“traditional” goodbyes.
/
wasn't chiseled in stone.
engraved in bone.
/
no handshake
no promise
we didn’t see-
eye to eye.
/
kind of equally analogous
to the sun rising
into the earth
/
chaos turned
to clarity.
-I left.
but I strived with
/
cold sweat,
with every stride
with every step
/
and the regret I carry
is something
I will never forget.
/
I was climbin’
to the top of
Mt. Everest.
/
except without you,
I fell off the grid.
it was all
plate tectonics
/
my world is
spinning off its axis.
and I haven't been
the same
since.
/
but it gives me a
hopeful glimpse-
when I'm lookin up
at those stars
/
feels like bright day
in the middle of
night.
/
I’d like to
think you’re
lookin’ at the
same stars
/
wherever you
might be.
I hope you’re looking at
that same sky.
/
you've left
behind a
footprint
forever
in my mind.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
Next to my son's anger
plate tectonics are nothing
to me. His unhappiness
was caused by me.
His purpose and mine
is to catch photons and
store them in our bones.
Time measures change
which continues without
self-doubt. There is no self.
Therefore, why care about
my son's anger
or my guilt?
Why do we have imaginary
numbers anyway?
The imaginary i allows us
to find solutions to many equations
that do not have real number solutions.
It is actually common for equations
to be unsolvable in one number system
but solvable in another:
—with only the counting numbers, we can’t solve x+8=1; we need the
integers for this!
—with only the integers, we can’t solve 3x-1=0; we need the rational
numbers for this!
—with only the rational numbers, we can’t solve x2=2; enter the
irrational numbers!
—and with only the real numbers, we can’t solve x2= -1;
we need the imaginary numbers for this!
Is it possible as Deutsch
suggests that the changes
a self-aware organism can
applying the scientific method
instantiate are innumerable
compared to those of the sun or any big bang?
Therefore, one must care
about the harm you've done
or the good you'd do.
"Death initiates a complex process by which the human body gradually
reverts to dust
but minerals may fill the cracks and voids, bonding the hydroxyapatite
and allowing the bones to join . . ."
in the happy tectonics
of the earth's plates.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
I want to disapeer
I want the earth to drag me under
Much farther than a casket
I'll burn up in the mantle
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 2:50 PM UTC
of dust float endless like yard work
and the ships from pier won't float without buoys
gravity! gravol! gratitude!
under what is under where, if you ask where what is
sloppy joe looks like a rancid saint of morning pancakes
and the syrup on his lips feel like an early morning jog
Platonic on the plate tectonics
the **** he said means solid, hark heavenly.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:23 AM UTC
She's a star that fades not, even in daylight
Sun that shines bright in the pitch of the night
an exhilarating adventure on an endless path
an antique jewel of tremendous worth.
She's the calm after a ferocious storm
a mystic place metamorphosed into an affable home
a fragrant red rose in the rain with some bit of thorns
yet a clear pond carpeted by a ballet of snow white swans
She's classical music harmoniously retailed by a violin
tectonics whose cosmic shifts made my melancholic existence spin
a euphonic crescendo of hope that finally entrapped
the cacophonous diminuendos of my despair
She's an ice cold drink on a sweltering day, a breath of fresh air...
a durable canvas upon which I've drawn life lessons
an intricate piece of heaven, she's an artistic impression.
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 12:41 PM UTC
let it sink in
deepen
pull you down
to the very core
of the earth
I taste it now
bitter somehow
and within the air it rings
underground
we dont hear these things
grapes to wine
wine to tongue
and still I feel it
the dirt filling my lungs
plate tectonics
have nothing on us
they shake the earth
but you destroy my world
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 9:55 PM UTC
Once upon a time
There was a kaleidoscope of colors
But I only longed to see the white light
I was waiting for grace
Soon it was med-time before bed-time
And a bunch of pills under the mattress
And an insatiable *** drive
Coupled with a sweet tooth
Speak now or forever hold your vices
Dream of the wise men, the stars and the spices
The promises we keep even after death
As everything breaks down in a red bubble bath
Pillow fights and report cards
Off-white lab coats and crazy blondes
Only the end of the book knows best
Even God needed rest
Slit vertical and split the scars
Go and begin your journey to the stars
Sweat out your demons or pray that they beat you
Hope that the friendliest shark will eat you
Ride the wild horses into the darkness
Gaze at the twisted Mandela on the ceiling
Fight the minister in a wrestling match
Self-destruct once more, this time with feeling
My Pangaea ultima is falling apart
As the plate tectonics inside me collide
The craters on my skin outweigh the Grand Canyon
With nothing to lose, pain is a landslide
A chemical imbalance, a childhood trauma,
An improper diet, heterosexual drama-
It might seem dysfunctional at the end of it all
But some were meant to fly, I was meant to fall
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
I’ve entered the Inner Passage
Thought of as the safe route to Alaska
Protected by friendly coves and sheltered bays
Shields voyagers from the uncertainties
Of the tectonics of a heaving Pacific
The Inner Passage
A compass point of
Jack London’s imagination
Spinning fantastic adventure yarns
of audacious Sea Wolf sailors
And rugged fortune seekers
Answering the call of the wild
The Inner Passage
Fraught with hidden shoals
And submerged rocky promontories
Lay just below the water line
Jutting on the steep banks
Of a glaciated mountain lined sea
The Inner Passage
Precludes an easy escape
To the boundless freedom
Of the open seas
One cannot sail away
One must firmly
grab the wheel
Guide the rudder
map the terra firma
Of a misconstructed life
The hazards and mishaps
Buried in the unconscious sands of the mind
interred to protect the heart
From the walking ghosts
Springing to life
Emboldening
The daily aches of living
The Inner Passage
Seemingly the safe route
Yet the hidden shoals
The ship wrecks
crews of stranded castaways
Call out for recovery, resurrection,
Watchfulness and recognition
Careful navigation is required
To salvage the wreckage
Rescue the unfortunate victims
Of the disasters and gales
I engendered along
my life's journey
The Inner Passage
A promise of rebirth
Reconstitution, recovery
“Can a man enter the womb again?”
The Gospel writer asks.
This inner passage may yet
Deliver me to a reinvigorated life
Let me uncover
What lies deep
In my tell tale heart
Let me tame
the mighty beasts of the sea
That rule the fathomless waters
Of my tumultuous emotions
May Thy Will and a better course
Heal my restive soul
My I finally free
my grounded vessel
From the false sanctuary
Offered by shallow shoals
Freeing me to dive deep
Into the hidden reefs
Of my heart and mind
May this pilgrim make good progress
May I accept life on life's terms
May I practice a well considered
engaged stewardship
May I never arrive at a staid place
And become wholesomely satisfied
with a serene state of being
The Inner Passage
Indeed a difficult voyage
Is underway
a new course mapped
I will pass through
The dark ranges where the
Commanding heights of
Fear, anger, resent and regret
Become nothing more
Then the precipitous peaks
Of a harmless silhouette
Fading away into the mist
Of yesterday's twilight
The Inner Passage
Aboard the Kennicott
Near Ketchikan, AK
8.22.19
jbm
Michael Nyman
The Piano
Aug 22, 2023
Aug 22, 2023 at 4:50 PM UTC
Jack Squat, Tom, **** Harry, Average Joe, John Doe and Mr. Smith
Decided to switch gears and do something neato
Instead of the usual nada and zilch
They went to go figure out exactly who's who in the zoo
And sure enough that's exactly what they did
They penetrated the mantel
Separated the crust
And stimulated the core
The Missionary positioned herself on her knees
And prepared to pray
They became metamorphic
They took the high ground
Ingenious
Sentiment
Fraternal twins
Both lived in eternal fret
One practiced fretwork
The other joined a fraternity
They both found each other years later at the amphitheater
They let their recessive genes surface
And clean the surface of their distressed jeans
Insane
In pain
Invain
My vanity
Is insanity
I'm panicking
The Golden age took place during My darkest days
Undisclosed illness
Indisposed
I left a bread crumb trail back to the poster board of my heroes and heroines
Masterfully
Mastery
Call me a maverick ,aster
Ask for me
Can't keep track of me
Can't keep up with me
Up keep
Big Mac attack
Crunch wrap supreme
It's not mystery
I'm a machine
Keep it clean
Make it shine and sheen
When it counted
I was unprepared and dumbfounded
But you'll never take them alive
They're already dead on the inside
I throw my voice
A slip of the lip
Plate tectonics take place
Volcanoes erupt and coat the viceroy in ash
Cherish it
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC