Pretend – inside your skin – you've got a friend, who's willing to give you everything you ever wanted in exchange for all you've ever been.

I should have told You before talking in terms of Forever that any given day wears me out and works me sour, that there are nights when the sky is so clear I stand obnoxious underneath it begging for the stars to shoot at me just so I can feel at Home.

Pretend – inside your skin – you've got a friend, who's willing to give you everything you ever wanted in exchange for all you've ever been.

How honest is it that we drink until we are dehydrated?

You're a free-standing landing pad held together by choir claps.

There was a typewriter buried alive in that horse, the one I road to get out of the flood.

If we were created in God’s image, then when God was a child he smushed fire ants with his fingertips and avoided tough questions.