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More from ~Madam-M

In Dreamsin dreams the day is warm and beautiful and we are standing in a doorway and the house smells like flowers and sex. you press your hand to the small of my back and i know that it is only a simple gesture of affection, but it feels like dancing. there is soft music but it's not in the house, outside the window there is one of many second lines going by. it feels like home, it feels like our home, the first home either of us has had in years.

in dreams the night smells like jasmines and we are drinking wine and smoking so much that there is a haze over the zombie movies we watch just for the noise. we whisper although we don't have to, just be
Thomas II11 January 2007
4:13a

Dear Thomas,

It's nearly a year.  I miss you.  It's been hard.  Work is good I guess,  I finally finished the book, and it looks like it will be getting published probably by the end of the year.  It was dedicated to you.  I know you are dead.  I just don't like to think about it.  I keep thinking  that you went on a trip or something.  I know you aren't ever coming back but sometimes I wish you could.  I guess you should know some of the stuff that has happened.  Um... I got the call.  No one in your family was notified.  Just the way you wanted it.  I called them.  It did not go well, the only people who bothered to
Thomas ITHOMAS I

"Thomas always wanted to play guitar, even as a child it was all he could really think about.  Taking over as lead guitarist for the Chicago local band The Fallen, he composed beautiful chord progressions and changes and had an intense and mysterious  stage presence.  The combination being both heart wrenching and romantic.  Some say he was an artist or a poet but all agreed that he was one of the major players for the Chicago scene for the last four years.  On January 20 at  3:31a.m., Thomas  passed away, a sudden and unexpected car crash robbing from us what could have been the biggest band out of Chicago since the Smashing Pumpki
Blooming FlowersI was stronger once, more open, more raw, like blooming flowers or a fresh scar. But The scars are old now and all the flowers are dried and hanging on the walls of my soul or in scrap books that I pull out occasionally to remember the places that I have been, and to see the places I may go.

There were nights, long ago, when I danced in the snow alone because I could, because I hoped, and it was all poetry in motion, it was all living breathing pulsing dreams and stories. Everything made me want to create, to push through ever solid thing until I got into heaps of messy words and images dripping with sultry thoughts and longing... to the bot

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April 25, 2007
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Camera Data

Canon
Canon EOS 20D
1/10 second
F/4.0
17 mm
1600
Feb 4, 2007, 4:34:48 AM
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:iconmadam-m:
Photographer: Shadow Angelina / drowningwoman
:iconthefadedangel:
!TheFadedAngel Feb 3, 2008
And yet, so very beautiful...
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:iconhartless:
~hartless Apr 25, 2007
Very nice.
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