I miss the smell of Old Spice and cigarettes. I truly think its the best smell in the world. Nothing can calm me down faster than the smell of a Marlboro and the lingering hint of old spice. Nothing smells as sweet and musty. Getting pulled into a tight hug, this smell envelops me and i want nothing more than to stay here forever. Its a smell I associate with trust, fun, laughing. intelligence, friendship and love. Not the kind of love that is romantic, but the kind of love that is friendship, brotherly/sisterly love. Knowing he will always be there for me... knowing he sees my crazy and still hangs around and calls me friend. Saving me from myself when no one could. Old Spice and Cigarettes.... Dax.


a poem about the old days when I just got my car..

"Driving in a old car, beaten and having seen better days, much like the driver.
Gray hues collapse onto mountain tops and the wipers sweep away the rain.
Fast paced moving.. down town skyscrapers still fall prey to gods tears.
Windows stained and dripping onto the crowd of umbrellas below.
My car is fast enough to get me to the canyon roads, with fall colors shaped by wetness.
I think of where I've been and where I'm at.
All I know is where I'm going, and that's towards the darker cloud's safety in danger.
reckless enough to take my time and rational enough to know better.
The trees and mountain walls line this two lane hwy, and my headlights are on, leading me back to where you and I were..
the memories of dancing in your arms. smelling crisp and fresh rain.
take me back to you.
This road may lead no where but it has helped me see past my fears and onto the rainy day ahead. "
I'll go home and sit curled up looking out the tear stained window and wait for you to come back to me. "