Imagining And Fantasizing Did Nothing But Break

We Haven't Lost Everything, If We Haven't Lost Our Hope.

Hundreds Of Butts In Piles On The Ground To Mark The Spot, Their Lives Sucked Out Of Them By Their Users In Panicked Distressed Frenzy, Their Souls Floating Around The Insides Of Lungs While Their Outsides Were Dropped, Stamped On And Deserted

I Would Love To Write A Mystery - A Romantic, Funny Mystery.

I Can’t Even Think About What Life “could Have Been” Like In Boston, Without Crying. It’s Like Deja-vu, I Don’t Think Me And Boston Were Ever Meant To Be.

Perhaps I’ve Been Rushing My Whole Entire Life, Jumping Into Things Headfirst Without Thinking Them Through. Running Through The Days Without Noticing The Minutes.