I wanna hold your hand
I wanna be your man
I wanna be the sand that runs through your toes
Ending up in unsuspecting places of the crannies and folds of your clothes.
A chair is not a chair
A weave is not her hair
A burning house is not a flare when there’s no one standing close
To witness who was so lonely for attention that he’d torch his own abode.
I wanna kiss your face
I wanna run your race
I wanna occupy your space like some random thought
That public education, good nutrition and moderate exercise just bought.
The Wire ended it’s 5-season run last night and I am sad to see it end. No more Omar. No more Bunk. No more McNulty. No more Bubbs. No more Simon genius.
This was an excellent show and if you’ve never seen it, invest in the dvd’s.
Good writing. Good social commentary. Good characters. Good laughs.
Good cries. Good watching.
To all who worked on the show, “Job well done!”
She do not like green eggs and ham
She do like granola and vegetarian spam
Great talent in 3D God attributed to her
A mature immaturity and a dog named Gir
Hailing for Detroit but it’s not all her fault
Happy Birthday, Samara. Tip you glass of gluten-free, flax seed, soy-laden malt.
Check out Samara’s skills at her website and wish her happy 30. Welcome to MY decade, young’un. Now life REALLY starts.