You Are Not What You Want. You

We Know Summer Is The Height Of Of Being Alive. We Don't Believe In God Or The Prospect Of An Afterlife Mostly, So We Know That We're Only Given Eighty Summers Or So Per Lifetime, And Each One Has To Be Better Then The Last, Has To Encompass A Trip To That Arts Center Up At Bard, A Seemingly Mellow Game Of Badminton Over At Some Yahoo's Vermont Cottage, And A Cool, Wet, Slightly Dangerous Kayak Trip Down An Unforgiving River. Otherwise, How Would You Know That You Have Lived Your Summertime Best? What Is You Missed Out On Some Morsel Of Shaded Nirvana?

We Are Now Part Of This Giant Machine Where Every Second We Have To Take Out A Device And Contribute Our Thoughts And Opinions.

By Reading This Message You Are Denying Its Existence And Implying Consent.

Asthmatic Immigrant Learns To Breathe By Writing.

You Are Not What You Want. You Are What Wants You Back.