"victoriously" poems
For Al, who left us
With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.
Al,
You ask me when the words come:
With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,
Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for body restoration,
Transpositional for poetic creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.
Al, you ask me from where do the words come:
Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,
The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.
The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.
The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.
The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.
These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here,
poem aborning!
Contract with this moment,
now satisfied!
Al, what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
_________________________________
(this poem more than most,
for its birth celebrates
my loss, your loss,
which cannot be exonerated 8/7/18)
_________________________________
written at 4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012
Greenport Harbor, Long Island
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 7:07 AM UTC
This was not love making.
This was sin
and the devil victoriously
danced between the sheets.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
He’s young, so very young,
And beautiful.
Dark, broody, beautiful!
No fear in his eyes-
Only quiet confidence.
You fly by night
With sight of the owl,
You climb with your eagle machine,
Fiercely, conquering the night.
Skilfully, lovingly, victoriously!
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
a quest is a kingdom
a quest is a king’s kingdom
a kingdom conquer a kingdom
a kingdom conquer a quest of kingdom
victory is a kingdom’s victory
victory conquer victory
conquer, conquer a king’s victory
victory conquer victory to its kingdom
victory is victorious of a victory
victory is victorious of a king
a quest is victorious of a quest
a quest is victorious of a victory
victorious is victorious of a victory
to conquer is to conquer victoriously
to conquer is to conquer a quest victoriously
a quest is victoriously a quest
a quest is victoriously a victory
victoriously is victoriously a victory
a king is victoriously a king
a king is to conquer victoriously
conquer is conquering victoriously
Oct 16, 2021
Oct 16, 2021 at 3:19 PM UTC
The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.
Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
Like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle's flame.
Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
The little whisper which, though it is a warning, is ignored.
I would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
The time when I was among their adherents
Who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.
But all of them would have one subject, desire,
If only my own -- but no, not at all; alas,
I was driven because I wanted to be like others.
I was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.
The history of my stupidity will not be written.
For one thing, it's late. And the truth is laborious.
Berkeley, 1980.
Trans. Robert Hass and Robert Pinsky
2.3k
Unravel the night as it nods off
to become a wall of darkness
until the sun looks into your eyes
once again
and you feel the pain of truth.
Then tell me what is real
among the promises we have made
and why the blood running through our veins
speaks of us,
as our hearts are seduced.
How can we continue to live on the edge
where each breath we take
challenges our bodies to become
victoriously in control?
When our hearts' wish to speak
of the need to see each other's face
and how love's flame burns
within our eyes then moves
inward to the depth
of our souls.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 7:24 PM UTC
With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.
Al,
You ask me when the words come:
With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,
Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for for restoration,
Transpositional for creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.
Al, you ask me from where do the words come:
Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,
The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.
The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.
The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.
The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.
These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here, poem aborning,
Contract with this moment, now satisfied.
Al, what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
___________
4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012
Greenport Harbor, N.Y.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
I'm Tired of people telling me that I should smile in photographs
My resistance has got nothing to do with
An Attitude problem
or my attempt at
Appearing acutely fashionable
This is just the way I look
Most of the time
Shouldn’t what we choose to record
At least strive for Authenticity?
I'm just not interested in selling myself
Into the acceptable family comfort mode
Having my split-second cheery face sink in
Against The kitchen wall's
"calming" comfort scheme
To be doted on by ageing female relatives
and jovially mocked by visiting casual friends
If anything I don't want my past to be
Looked upon at all
Maybe it's the old story
of leaving home and the urge
To re-invent oneself
To Block out the old experiences, the old embarrassments
Freeing yourself to embark on a fresher tirade
of critical self-assessment
To be finally and victoriously
Free from the unsettling confines
of childhood
To engage yourself completely
in the waking,walking,working
Nightmare of maturity, responsibility
and devastating ambition.
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 9:38 AM UTC
After she drank his bitter wine of selfish, pathetic love
She slyly sang him her haunted chant
"The laughs on you", she crooned in her soft malicious tune
At times, she could act with chicane
She had many charms when treated well...
Deadly ones - when not
Oh yes...
She herself may at times have sinned
But he-had the stain of evil, paltry love
Now...Inside her gossamer labyrinth she lay
Carefully, diligently spinning her web
Revealing nothing-and everything
She'd weave her silky snare inside his heart
Laying her toxic eggs of betrayed despair
Spinning her poisonus venom of painful truth
Oh yes...
Her bite is deadly now
She could have been his 'Velvet Rose'
But, he crushed her petals rare
Ending her silken dreams
With his evil malicious schemes
Her spider's web became untethered
Attaching itself by a single thread
To his shoddy veil of evil, selfish love
Now...She is the hunter
And...He is the hunted
In the coming eve...
She'd deliver her poisonous, lethal sting
He'd be noones's lover now
Her threads would cut his miserable flesh
Her deadly venom would seal his fate
Remaining nothing more
Than an ancient, slithering shadow
All along the castle walls
For some time a deadly secret she doth keep
"Revenge”, she whispers, while he sleeps
She was once his only lady
With ivory skin and beauty fair
She fed him nectar from her raven hair
His betrayal seared her hemorrhaged heart
She'd warned him with many words and fiery stares
"Thou shalt not indulge in wicked fare
Be ever so watchful, do not betray
Beware, where thou heart doth leave
Take heed" said she, "Just who thy seed deceives".
In her chamber dark at night, this maiden fair
Planned his demise with scourged nectar, bitter sweet
Stirring her venomous, poisonous treat
Or would dagger to his heart she’d plant
Bid him die a dark and painful lingering death
Upon his sleeping body that she'd leave
As she crept silently into his chamber -
These words she bitterly but victoriously said...
"Thou shalt betray no more.
Thou has sinned against me...
Taken my love in shame
"Betray no more", she said".
But now
Thou is thankfully, forever DEAD!"
Her silken threads had cut his miserable flesh
Her deadly venom had sealed his fate
Now...he remained nothing more
Than an ancient, slithering shadow...
All along her castle walls
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
There’s got to be a way out.
I’ve been struggling in this swamp for months.
Thought to keep striving was the key.
But it seems like the key has rusted,
Not working any more.
It has been too long to be patient.
Nobody helped,
For the fear of being dragged in the situation.
I still didn’t back out,
Tried to stand firmly,
And search for a rope.
A rope of time,
That was supposed to lengthen,
To help me,
To make things better.
Looks like it has only become shorter.
Passersby say-
“You can’t escape it”,
I feel disheartened,
Belittled.
I think about giving it a last try,
In case this time I am able to hop out.
Oh boy! That was a great moment!
They were all flabbergasted!
With all my strength,
And my courage pulled together,
I came out!
Stood on the ground,
Victoriously,
Contrary to their remarks.
Then I realized,
There’s always a way out.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 3:22 AM UTC
As the exhaust spewed its mourning glum
onto the whimpering porcelain snow,
the chauffeur looked up and desperately prayed
for an Academy Award winner.
"Novelty tears shall spout at all times!"
And the thespian will charge through those double doors,
beginning his craft from the moment he hears the ***** *****
singing the deceased's pleas towards the golden gate of Heaven
and crunching through an audience of bawling admirers
of a man he barely knew.
He was chosen to give the eulogy.
Designated to speak on the behalf
of man he never thought to glance at twice,
besides the intervals of days spent
despising the realization of his existence,
resenting the scars created in surplus quantities,
stomping down the darkest layers still oozing from the coffin.
For a handful of hours, it must all become a waning spark for the
method actor giving the most crowd-pleasing breakdown of his life,
delivering a perfectly tailored recital
cloaked to all the front-pew viewers
as a heartfelt elegy.
"Just a few hours," he thought as the double doors creaked,
and the scene will end with him sliding into his car,
a dead weight off his shoulders,
driving victoriously into the sunset.
A new set of tears rolled with the end credits,
along the face of the son,
liquidating the thespian with their bleak sincerity.
They were drops of remorse
for a bond that was never born,
with an abortion in a wood encasing
for all those people out there in the dark.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
Satire,
When used in a mature manner,
Is the most absolutely delicious
Most perfect form of a quiet rebellion
That of which my every day, regular peers
Can only hope to successfully publish.
It is not to be taken for granted,
It is instead meant to be heard and admired..
And possibly even feared
For my every day, regular peers
Are victoriously standing up
With the sharpest of political tongues
And the quickest, most enlightening wit.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
What is it, that really stops you,
from inviting Christ into your heart?
Are you afraid of the responsibilities
or opportunities that can be imparted?
Have you taken quality time to thank God,
for the many blessings you’ve received?
How do you describe your current lifestyle-
living victoriously or partially relieved?
Where are you placing your trust each day?
Do you posses false hope in World systems,
or Hope in the principles of The Holy Word?
Where are you searching for the valuable gems
that will sustain your entire, life journey?
Are you energized with a real, Christian verve
that motivates your ongoing actions of Faith,
from knowing The Lord, Whom you daily serve?
Before it’s too late, open your heart to Him.
Take personal stock, look back and thank Him.
Open your eyes, look around and serve Him.
Look ahead via His Spirit and trust… in Him.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Rev 3:20; Psa 95:2-3; Gal; 3:6-9; John 12:26;
Rom 1:18-20
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
Red guavas fall,
From trees all around us,
And land, victoriously, on the island of our palms,
A soft cushion, paler than the cracked pavement.
Give me a guava or two,
Let’s juggle, one at a time,
Right to left,
One fell, pick it up! C’mon!
Hand me a guava,
I will count them,
I will ensure you taste one,
That our teeth grind them,
With the delicacy of a tropical breeze.
Climb up the guava tree,
I'm already reaching for a pair,
Our mouths are full, there is guava on my lips,
On her lips,
On his lips,
On our lips, “may I help you?”
NO TRESPASSING,
Said a sign on the fence,
“Too late,” you said,
NO MORE GUAVA.
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 8:04 PM UTC
With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.
Al,
You ask me when the words come:
With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,
Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for for restoration,
Transpositional for creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.
Al, you ask me from where do the words come:
Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,
The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.
The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.
The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.
The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.
These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here, poem aborning,
Contract with this moment, now satisfied.
Al, what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
_________________________________
4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012
Greenport Harbor, N.Y.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
The World is not enough for me, seeing that
my enrollment is inscribed on Heaven’s scroll;
my assignments are ongoing and I know that…
I’m secure with regard to the future of my soul.
I may not enjoy the exploits of James Bond,
but my faith’s exhilaration does not compare
in the traditional sense of the World’s view,
since the Presence of Jehovah is everywhere.
Empowered by His Spirit to take divine action,
defeat of evil principalities that surround
will eventually occur by the might of The Lord,
as I’m standing on The Word’s Biblical ground.
Though I’ll never fear the unknown I may face,
I’m thoroughly equipped and trained for battle.
The weapons of my warfare are spiritually based;
firmly I stand in “the gap” without being rattled.
Certainly I’m not jealous of the secret agent,
for I already possess the mystery to happiness:
the joy of The Lord is my source of contentment.
The strength of my faith is eternally relentless
and I’m loving this blessed existence each day.
My spirit is perpetually stirred, but not shaken!
Living victoriously remains as my mission statement
until the my life’s final day, when I’m taken… home.
Author Notes
Loosely based on:
1 King 8:27; Jer 23:23-24; Isa 6:3, 66:1;
2 Tim 2:19; Matt 7:24; 1 Pet 2:6; Eze 22:30;
Psa 28:7, 62:2; Eph 6:11-13; 2 Cor 5:8, 10:3-5
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
As the tide washes away
The things we do or say
Or that which we want to fade away
Remain not forgotten
But become fractionally dormant
Inside the labyrinth of the mind
New truths are revealed with low tides
Salmon victoriously swim upstream
Until their end becomes seen
I am dusting off my dreams
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
They won’t just touch my soul and set me free
Eagerly will open the deepest of wounds and fest on my worst fears
Harshly undress my faith and crush my hope
Victoriously laugh to celebrate my doom
Bleed me red to suffer in dry tears
Waltz with my ghost to slowly scatter my temple
Taunt to enliven my mistakes
Proudly glorifying my shames
Only to win a soul that has been defeated
I sense them overstepping my shadow
The monsters catching up with my heart and mind
Will I score the final touchdown or will they devour me whole
Touch so contagious
The poison burns running wild in my veins
Won’t be long for when I am all at once taken away
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 4:43 AM UTC
Nothing but pain in my veins, wondering when will things ever be the same?
Struggling each night, just to keep myself from drowning in this horrible pool of pain
Drip drop, my heart slowly begins to stop and suddenly all I feel is shame
Now simultaneously my eyes begin to pour torrential rain
Endless agony and suppression, all because my pain has got me deep in oppression
Fighting with myself, just one more incident and dangggggggg it's right back to depression
"Pull yourself together" "Don't cry" "Stay strong"
My mind tries to convince that there's no possible way I could've right this wrong.
Swear the Only reason I like the rain is because I nicely matches my pain
All the joy it brings to watch my tears slowly travel down the drain
Whose idea was it anyway to think to ever hurt someone else all for selfish gain?
Well 'Mr. Popular' I hope you enjoy your notoriously self earned fame
Seriously was my distress, just a part of your hilarious test?
Knew I should've preserved myself,
Just knew I should've invest much less.
I could've saved myself a long time ago
Instead I was too caught up in trying to convince myself that it really wasn't soo
If you want to you'd go, but you'd hurt me deeply and that you know
The purpose of exactly which pain you cause me was never a real mystery
Because between you and me, we both know what was the real curiosity...
It was me thinking that my despondency, would ever yield the response I really wanted to see.
Endless trials and tribulations,
man this stress really puts me in desperate need of defibrillation
But I'm definitely thankful to God for this oh, so sweet revelation.
Absolutely nothing but pain in my veins
Thinking now just maybe things don't ever have to be the same
Satisfied in knowing all my hurt was not in vain
Not because I wished you death or horrible pain
But because my betters days arrived and now I...
I am proud to say that I now smile victoriously through the rain.
- (jrew)
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
Our love
It began years ago
In a middle school
Either a classroom
Or cafeteria
Our love
It began when eyes met
And hearts skipped
Our love
It began when lips met
And worlds collided
When the rain
Blessed us
Our love
It began when
You walked up to me
Also the moment I realized
I couldn't refuse your offer
Our love began
When we fell apart
Distant to far for comfort
Our love
It began
With an idea
At a second chance
Our love
It began when our lips
Reunited and we remembered
What is was like to really be kissed
Our love
It begins
With every new adventure
And we get to laugh
Victoriously
Because we know
Our love will never die
We'll just start some new twisted adventure.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
Alluring me with your looks
Beckoning with your eyes
Changing my mind in a second
Dedicating your song
Enduring your love for me
Fascinating me in a way
Germinating in my heart
Habituating me for you
Illustrating your heart of love
Jauntily exposing for me
Keenly trying to make me a
Laburnum flower of yellow
Meandering around me with
Never ending love and lust
Oscillating me in your arms
Proposing with red roses
Quieting my heart beat
Releasing me giving oxygen
Slowly making me yours
Treating me like an angel
Ultimately surrendering
Victoriously claimed your love
Watching me falling for you
Xanthic flowers grow in me
Yaffingale bird making green
Zealously engaging me in you !
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
I see you
Black/brown hair
The ivy green of your disturbed eyes
Walking
Further and further away from me
The void of time closing
Faster and faster still
So abrupt each change that I feel the draw of tension in my skull
The harsh rip of tendons in my heart
You were leaving
This time
For good
A two hour treacherous trip
To home were the rest of them flocked
Your roosting
And I could not follow
Little blue bird
With her short wings could not fly with the hawk
And his strong reaching wings
When her feet where tied to commitment
The shackles of responsibility
What was right for little blue was here
Where the sun shone and the gift of education lingered
But GOD how she wanted to follow him
Into the unknown
The bleakness
Just to not have to suffer the loss of her hawk
But what was waiting for him was a promise
The promise of a better life
Freedom from the ****** he had become accustom too
Freedom to flourish in a distinctly hawk way
To get better
To soar high in the heavens and enjoy the wind
Without losing his mind in the process
You walk
Away from me
Into a brighter sun than
The shade at my back
Casting your shadow backwards where it held me
In its phantom strength untill
It too faded out
And left me lonely
Completely incomplete
Untill you come
For me
Keening victoriously
In flight
Turning I walk back into the shade you left behind
Leaving blue feathers
Sounding out the clinking of chains
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 3:50 PM UTC
It is with the simplicity of a single sheet of paper that these words are coming out of me.
None at all.
Struggling, aching with potential.
Clouding the emptiness, growing heavier.
Getting so heavy.
Bursting forth, victoriously impulsive and unprepared.
Leaping!
Falling from the lips, and dying, too fragile to endure
the critical gaze of the beautiful.
The senten ces be gin to break apart into syllab les
and then in
to
lett
ers
the substance of
m y
int er actions wi th
oth ers
dying
in
t
h
e
mud.
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 12:07 PM UTC
The **** that I do not give overrides the **** that I do.
But then again the **** that I do give is only contemplation on the hurt I have bestowed on others at this very point in time.
It is only due to the hurt I've used and abuse to hurt myself.
In turn this self hating hurt has hurt my friends, father and pretend mother.
I am selfish.
Self-absorbed, self-occupied, self-threatening, self-conscience.
Me, me, me, me, me!
They do not understand.
Every night is a bath of salty sweat, blood and tears.
Visions leaking out from my mind projected on dark walls, staring me in the face.
While, in next-door rooms, cousins, brothers, fathers, mothers, sleep silent and happy dreams.
I brought it upon myself.
Popping merks in a dodgy town.
Talking to David at the church while crowds of cartoons watched.
Confused, anxious and ever so angry.
TALK TO ME!
NO, SHUT THE **** UP!
T'was all a mistake that should never have been made.
It wouldn't have been so bad if the events that were to follow had never happened.
Drug accusations that were vigorously and victoriously argued and lied about.
So, now I'm left with two options.
Come clean and confess this mess,
Or, keep it all inside and continue with this selfish protest.
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
You taught me the truth & how to be like someone else
other than myself. its strange how i cant find the words
in my head to describe the feelings i felt
I've known you my whole life so why can't i do so ?
Everyday i grow from obstacles I've faced learning
things at first i couldn't relate now i know faith is how
i live victoriously.
The words that I've been looking for
Were found among my tears
But I've quickly wiped them all away
And hidden them for years
will my demons hide from you? just look at who
i have become i'm so ashamed you were the one
that made me feel the way i do
You've sealed my lips with a thousand kisses
Kisses I didn't deserve, Wishes that never came true
Voices that weren't heard because you failed to listen
Truth is you were twisted..
I wanted to tell you a million times
But every time i looked into your eyes
I couldn't find the nerve
I know now that looks can be
deceiving and misleading
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC