And when I think about that sunrise that I woke up to that morning, I just feel like I got as close to nowhere as I could get, and found out that it was more of a place than anywhere I've been in a long time.

I'm also pretty impressive when I'm shoving the neck of a lute into someone's chest cavity.

It seems no matter what I read I think 'this is not Harry Potter.'

So you go on and on, with this intellectual fly down, your underwear exposed, and toilette paper hanging out the back of your pants.

Welcome to the degeneration of my mind.

I forgot how to throw a boomerang, but then it came back to me.

We are all differently broken, semi-functional, rusted out love machines