Fatigue Is Here, In My Body, In

When I Was Sixteen, It Was Simple. Poetry Existed; Therefore It Could Be Written; And Nobody Had Told Me — Yet — The Many, Many Reasons Why It Could Not Be Written By Me.

Without The Light, No Chance; Without The Dark, No Dance.

The Thing About Delirium Is You Think It's Great, But It Actually Isn't.

We Shouldn't Have Been So Scornful; We Should Have Had Compassion. But Compassion Takes Work, And We Were Young.

A Handful Of Crumpled Stars