I think we've all lost some kind of feeling.

I'm into, oh murders and executions mostly. It depends.

I felt lethal, on the verge of frenzy. My nightly bloodlust overflowed into my days and I had to leave the city. My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation.

My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone.

Why would I care what other people are thinking? I don't care what an audience thinks of me.

Fear never shows up and the party ends early.

I think the '80s created me, in a way, when I look back on that time, but I don't necessarily think that a lot of my choices, and a lot of things that I did, and a lot of things that happened to me - or I let happen to me - were about that decade.