I Am A Man, Jupiter, And Each

Like All Dreamers, I Mistook Disenchantment For Truth.

I Exist, That Is All, And I Find It Nauseating.

What I See Is Teeming Cohesion, Contained Dispersal... For Him, To Sculpt Is To Take The Fat Off Space.

The Worst Part About Being Lied To Is Knowing You Werent Worth The Truth

Through The Lack Of Attaching Myself To Words, My Thoughts Remain Nebulous Most Of The Time. They Sketch Vague, Pleasant Shapes And Then Are Swallowed Up; I Forget Them Almost Immediately.