I can’t believe it. I’m engaged to be married to the love of my life… and she lives over 700 miles away. God dammit… our similar minds just had to be born physically so far apart.
miles to go before i’m home again, miles that separate me from you, miles and miles of road, mountains, hills, and seas, miles across, miles to cross, miles to go before i lay next to you…
miles to go before i’m home again, miles that separate me from you, miles and miles of road, mountains, hills, and seas, miles across, miles to cross, miles to go before i sleep next to you.
How many miles until I see you again? The miles define my life. They stretch out across me, marked by green road signs. It’s endless. Miles upon miles. By definition, a mile is number, a unit of measurement, and yet no matter how many miles I measure, I cannot even begin to fathom how many it’ll take until I see you again.
I got up and started running. I ran through the streets in the early morning light, trying to escape the conversation that still echoed in my head. I ran for miles, but it felt as though I never left where I started and the conversation would never end.
The longest and largest distance becomes so minuscule compared to distance it takes to reach someones heart and even that distance is tiny when it comes to finding ones own.
miles don’t mean anything. i still think of you everyday. miles of pounding on the road, track, trails. start to have an effect on your knees and entire body
Seconds and hours and so many days.
Under the same moon, so many miles away.
Me with your shirt, trying to cease the hurt.
You with my letter, hoping things will get better.
Dear John…it read.
And with that, the tears start to shed.
They were miles apart from each other. Each wanting something different. He wanted her. She wanted a night with her friends. He was heart-broken, but so was she.
I could go for miles and miles and miles. You can;t stop me. I’m going, no matter what you say or who you think you are. I am going to travel the world, see the sights I need and want to see!
The plane had flown miles and miles to get me here, but it was worth it. I would walk here if I absolutely had to. But it didn’t matter. I was away from that place, away from the sadness, and here in my happiness. I was miles away.
I walked for miles and miles, not sure where I was going. Once I stopped to talk to a man. I asked him his story. He started walking long ago, and then stopped. I took a drink, and kept on going.
When going on a trip, you have to go many miles. But here in Canada we use Kilometers instead. I think the metric system is better. It’s more easy to remember.
I like to run. I like to say that I like to run. The actual running is tolerable at best. I live having run, much in the way that I like “having written” rather than the actual process of writing. Blah. I have anxiety. I don’t want to go to jail.
Miles are hard to walk. Especially for school when I have to run them. No one knows how hard it is for someone like me. No one understands. I just wish I could be like other people. Not
Having ro worry about things as somplie as running a mile. But unfortunately I’m not like others. I’m differed. People say different is good. I disagree. It leads to laughter and jokes made if yourself. It leads to dark, depressing days. Failures. Horrors. All because of a mile.
i want to travel for miles. i have seen so many beautiful pictures and so many beautiful places that exist miles away from me. I want to cover all of the miles with someone special. i want to share the miles of my life with someone i love. someone who can love me back. there are so mmany places near and far. so much beauty everywhere. we must travel the distance to see them but we also must enjoy the beauty only a mile away. I want to see it all. i want to see the beauty miles away and appreciate the beauty in my backyard. that will bring peace.
I never thought much about it. One foot in front of the other. It stemmed from yet another major enviromental global disaster. You know the type. Pigeons and seagulls covered in some bullshit. But you can’t complain if you’re using petrol; so I ditched the car and started walking. The first mile came easy. It seemed natural. Fitting. The way it was intended to be. The man and the open road.
My name is Miles McKenna and I am a male porn performer. I perform mostly in gay pornographic videos but I occassionally get to play the other side. The gay stuff pays the rent but I prefer the ladies in my personal life
Meilen, viele Millionen von Meilen. Wasser soweit das Auge blickt und soweit das Ohr hört. Kein Land in Sicht. Hoffnungslose Unendlichkeit. Da kannst du Rudern und Schwimmen und Paddeln und Tauchen, du wirst nie ankommen. Nie.
Staring off, I’m miles away from reality. Everything is perfect and pristine; nothing tainted. I soak it in, relishing the moment. And with one flutter of my eyelids, I’m back, a small smile gracing my lips.
The miles were getting harder of late. They used to be so smooth, with only a couple of bumps, but now they were consistently uphill, with only a few downhill bumps in between. Now, things were much different.
The distance between us is oh-so-many miles, yet it often feels like you’re in the same room with me; just being, talking, the ability to exist in the same space quietly changes when there are miles in-between.
Miles and miles and miles of scar tissue. My fingers trace the dark canyons in my skin. I smile. I cry. I’m so mad at the world. I’m so sick of this. Cutcutcutcutcut. How many miles does it take to get to the end?
and miles i drove to be right here and now i’m here i feel a little let down by the expectation of being somewhere miles away in a mood miles away from my usual mood. i think i’ll have to leave.
“And miles to go before I sleep.” I think everyone knows that line – it’s Robert Frost, right? Sometimes a long day can be compared to miles. Is that what old Bob was trying to say? I think so.
it’s never enough, is it? we walked until our feet
bled, clawed at our chests in a
heart-stopping
motion. cried even when our faces froze under
the weight of salt and melancholy.
and still, the stars were as far from our fingertips as they were
back when we inhaled the quiet of moonbeams.
He knew me better than most. And now he resembles his moniker. But what better education could you ask for as a naive eleven year old? Bicycles and best friends and dirty words and dirty knees.
the journey across the smooth desert, wrinkle like dues and wides exspansives
I can’t believe it. I’m engaged to be married to the love of my life… and she lives over 700 miles away. God dammit… our similar minds just had to be born physically so far apart.
distance.miles.car.roadtrip.friends.monica.chandler.sitcom.how i met your mother.barney.neil partick harris. gay. prop8.ellen.dance.
miles is the name of one of the most famous cd that eminen recored two years ago. later warner made a movie telling the e
my i love even sense your nearness though we are so far, so close, but so far from where we ought, should, could, want to be. my i love even sense.
Dammit, man. How many times do I have to tell you, that’s not a gravestone. Miles from Dublin is a mile-marker. Now pack up… we’re leaving.
miles to go before i’m home again, miles that separate me from you, miles and miles of road, mountains, hills, and seas, miles across, miles to cross, miles to go before i lay next to you…
miles to go before i’m home again, miles that separate me from you, miles and miles of road, mountains, hills, and seas, miles across, miles to cross, miles to go before i sleep next to you.
How many miles until I see you again? The miles define my life. They stretch out across me, marked by green road signs. It’s endless. Miles upon miles. By definition, a mile is number, a unit of measurement, and yet no matter how many miles I measure, I cannot even begin to fathom how many it’ll take until I see you again.
I got up and started running. I ran through the streets in the early morning light, trying to escape the conversation that still echoed in my head. I ran for miles, but it felt as though I never left where I started and the conversation would never end.
The longest and largest distance becomes so minuscule compared to distance it takes to reach someones heart and even that distance is tiny when it comes to finding ones own.
miles don’t mean anything. i still think of you everyday. miles of pounding on the road, track, trails. start to have an effect on your knees and entire body
Hundreds and Hundreds of mile it was a distance too long that they couldn’t even measure it.
The way into his heart was a long one, it was a dangerous road.
She’d travel it though for the sake of his sanity and for the sake of making the distance between them smaller and smaller.
So in the end there wouldn’t be a distance.
He took off a week ago.
Now I’m in Ohio
and he’s somewhere down South.
I don’t know what to think of it.
All he left me with
is our memories.
Of us sitting on the beach,
drinking tea,
holding hands,
being happy.
We walked for miles and there was no car in sight. But to tell the truth we didn’t care. We were together and thats what matters most. Being together.
Seconds and hours and so many days.
Under the same moon, so many miles away.
Me with your shirt, trying to cease the hurt.
You with my letter, hoping things will get better.
Dear John…it read.
And with that, the tears start to shed.
apart forever is never much
but lovely nothingness
where there is forgetting
and that leads to more and more and
never ever having to say sorry.
They were miles apart from each other. Each wanting something different. He wanted her. She wanted a night with her friends. He was heart-broken, but so was she.
I could go for miles and miles and miles. You can;t stop me. I’m going, no matter what you say or who you think you are. I am going to travel the world, see the sights I need and want to see!
The plane had flown miles and miles to get me here, but it was worth it. I would walk here if I absolutely had to. But it didn’t matter. I was away from that place, away from the sadness, and here in my happiness. I was miles away.
I walked for miles and miles, not sure where I was going. Once I stopped to talk to a man. I asked him his story. He started walking long ago, and then stopped. I took a drink, and kept on going.
When going on a trip, you have to go many miles. But here in Canada we use Kilometers instead. I think the metric system is better. It’s more easy to remember.
She was racing down the highway. She hadn’t looked, but the odometer read 88 miles per hour. The lights flashing behind her didn’t register.
I like to run. I like to say that I like to run. The actual running is tolerable at best. I live having run, much in the way that I like “having written” rather than the actual process of writing. Blah. I have anxiety. I don’t want to go to jail.
Miles are hard to walk. Especially for school when I have to run them. No one knows how hard it is for someone like me. No one understands. I just wish I could be like other people. Not
Having ro worry about things as somplie as running a mile. But unfortunately I’m not like others. I’m differed. People say different is good. I disagree. It leads to laughter and jokes made if yourself. It leads to dark, depressing days. Failures. Horrors. All because of a mile.
i want to travel for miles. i have seen so many beautiful pictures and so many beautiful places that exist miles away from me. I want to cover all of the miles with someone special. i want to share the miles of my life with someone i love. someone who can love me back. there are so mmany places near and far. so much beauty everywhere. we must travel the distance to see them but we also must enjoy the beauty only a mile away. I want to see it all. i want to see the beauty miles away and appreciate the beauty in my backyard. that will bring peace.
I never thought much about it. One foot in front of the other. It stemmed from yet another major enviromental global disaster. You know the type. Pigeons and seagulls covered in some bullshit. But you can’t complain if you’re using petrol; so I ditched the car and started walking. The first mile came easy. It seemed natural. Fitting. The way it was intended to be. The man and the open road.
My name is Miles McKenna and I am a male porn performer. I perform mostly in gay pornographic videos but I occassionally get to play the other side. The gay stuff pays the rent but I prefer the ladies in my personal life
Miles and miles to go, going nowhere. Anywhere but here. I sit here and wait, going nowhere. Lost. Confused. Walk. Miles and miles to go.
Meilen, viele Millionen von Meilen. Wasser soweit das Auge blickt und soweit das Ohr hört. Kein Land in Sicht. Hoffnungslose Unendlichkeit. Da kannst du Rudern und Schwimmen und Paddeln und Tauchen, du wirst nie ankommen. Nie.
Staring off, I’m miles away from reality. Everything is perfect and pristine; nothing tainted. I soak it in, relishing the moment. And with one flutter of my eyelids, I’m back, a small smile gracing my lips.
The miles were getting harder of late. They used to be so smooth, with only a couple of bumps, but now they were consistently uphill, with only a few downhill bumps in between. Now, things were much different.
The distance between us is oh-so-many miles, yet it often feels like you’re in the same room with me; just being, talking, the ability to exist in the same space quietly changes when there are miles in-between.
Miles and miles and miles of scar tissue. My fingers trace the dark canyons in my skin. I smile. I cry. I’m so mad at the world. I’m so sick of this. Cutcutcutcutcut. How many miles does it take to get to the end?
and miles i drove to be right here and now i’m here i feel a little let down by the expectation of being somewhere miles away in a mood miles away from my usual mood. i think i’ll have to leave.
Miles of blood. Miles. It just kept going. And the smell. God, the smell. There were innards. There were bones. It was hell. It was lovely.
My name is Miles, that’s pretty much it. lolkbye.
“And miles to go before I sleep.” I think everyone knows that line – it’s Robert Frost, right? Sometimes a long day can be compared to miles. Is that what old Bob was trying to say? I think so.
it’s never enough, is it? we walked until our feet
bled, clawed at our chests in a
heart-stopping
motion. cried even when our faces froze under
the weight of salt and melancholy.
and still, the stars were as far from our fingertips as they were
back when we inhaled the quiet of moonbeams.
He knew me better than most. And now he resembles his moniker. But what better education could you ask for as a naive eleven year old? Bicycles and best friends and dirty words and dirty knees.