I'm layering away: sauce, noodles, I belong to you, cheese, sauce, my heart is yours, noodles, cheese, I hear your soul in your music, cheese, cheese, CHEESE.

The architecture of my sister's thinking, now phantom. I fall down stairs that are nothing but air.

I'm layering away: sauce, noodles, I belong to you, cheese, sauce, my heart is yours, noodles, cheese, I hear your soul in your music, cheese, cheese, CHEESE.

We wish with our hands, that's what we do as artists.

I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I'm watching it burn right to the ground.

At least, the sun had the decency to stay the hell away from us.

I wish my shadow would get up and walk beside me.