Nothing Could Have Survived Our Life.

Why Do We Spend Years Using Up Our Bodies To Nurture Our Minds With Experience And Find Our Minds Turning Then To Our Exhausted Bodies For Solace?

We Grew Up Founding Our Dreams On The Infinite Promise Of American Advertising.

Nothing Could Have Survived Our Life.

I Remember Every Single Spot Of Light That Ever Gouged A Shadow Beside Your Bones.

A Southern Moon Is A Sodden Moon, And Sultry. When It Swamps The Fields And The Rustling Sandy Roads And The Sticky Honeysuckle Hedges In Its Sweet Stagnation, Your Fight To Hold On To Reality Is Like A Protestation Against A First Waft Of Ether.