Me, feeling. What a concept.

I sighed; as comforting as it may be to some of us, sarcasm, like youth, is wasted on the young.

As I've said, freedom is really an illusion. Anytime we think we have a real choice, it just means we haven't seen the shotgun aimed at our navel.

I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.

I thought about the nice clothes that I always wore. Well of course I did. I took pride in being the best dressed monster in Dade County.

I was never more alive than when the Dark Passenger was driving.

Weren't we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by which we dumped our insanity into a dark subconscious pit and came out on the other side ready to eat cereal instead of our neighbor's children?