She touches me The jungle lights up with incinerating fire Looks like a flaming serpent I look into her eyes I see a movie flickering Car crashes People kicking corpses Men ripping their tracheas out and shaking them at the sky I think to myself: I don’t want to survive this one I want to burn up in the wreckage Cooking flesh in the jungle

I have to do things for myself, and if those standards are set high, then it's up to me to pass or fail.

In my world there would be as many public libraries as there are Starbucks.

I mean I appreciate fan mail and that the people like what I am doing but I can't answer it. If I would answer 25 letters a day I would be just a guy answering mail and not an artist anymore.

Young, gay and stuck in Arkansas? Sounds like a horror flick.

When you start thinking as far as what's a good photo, unfortunately everything starts looking like a good photo.

I never thought I was right for TV or that TV was right for me.