Anything For Gold And Experience.

Ever Since I Was Two, I've Loved Octopuses, Monsters, Abandoned Buildings.

My Google-fu Is Strong.

In Time, In Time They Tell Me, I'll Not Feel So Bad. I Don't Want Time To Heal Me. There's A Reason I'm Like This. I Want Time To Set Me Ugly And Knotted With Loss Of You, Marking Me. I Won't Smooth You Away. I Can't Say Goodbye.

My Parents Were Hippies, And The Story Is That They Went Through A Dictionary Looking For A Beautiful Word To Name Me. They Nearly Called Me Banyan, But Flipped A Few Pages On And Reached "china," Thankfully. The Other Reason They Liked It Is That "china" Is Cockney Rhyming Slang For "mate." People Say "my Old China," Meaning "my Old Mate," Because "china Plate" Rhymes With "mate.

Perhaps The Window Is Not A Sun But An Asterisk, Interrupting The Grammar Of The Sky, With Me Sitting Below It Like A Footnote.