What wonderful thing didn't start out scary?

How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?

We eat and sleep and shuffle through the fog, walking a marathon with no finish line, no medals, no cheering.

Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting?

I wish people were willing to dig a little deeper than the surface elements of a premise before tossing one story in with another.

I don't know... there's something kind of beautiful about it, don't you think? That we keep living and growing even though our world is a corpse? That we keep coming back no matter how many of us die?

It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.