dale garris Biography

drunk, disastress, rage.

love is a veiw, sometimes a complete mess
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alive, like breathing lilac for the very first time; BEAUTIFULLY stimulating an uninspired mind
the willows WHISPER to the autumn moon in stride; as the sky swallows drops of inspriation with eyes a thousand MILES wide
all the STARS in the screaming skies roar; kissing of things within in them silently to swore
everything sleeps beneath the NOTION of night; assuring our little brains, there is nothing else that could be so right
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we keep oursevles in little jars like single orbits of unknown planets revoling around a nonexistent sun. we fall in and out of love. time is a constant reminder of agining skin, an eroding earth, life slowly slipping away.
Embracing charished moments with handfulls of photographs and unwritten memories.
the pages are like footsteps in the sand, and footsteps are like heartbeats, and sand is like paper, and paper is like skin.
and touch is imparitive.
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barges prove harsh; another sleeping waste. a nonagain to and untold
it'll NOT i it; so know you a YOU; wat be frank of if? i swimms funk and new; book something me; and don't price junkies me down
DON'T MINE DOWN? ?
back this her like an after rain breathing; willows of screaming beneath that;
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LOVE songs echoe in my brain, like distant oceans of crashing waves, brilliant and insane
we live in tiny worlds of thought; glistening on the skin of existence
bits and peices of real things fragment from ideas with persistance.
swallowing small parts of the sky my human skin cannot quite digest;
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