But If You Do Believe, Then You

It's Surprisingly Nice Out Here, Peaceful And Pretty-strange To Be Standing In The Middle Of A Little Garden While Enclosed By The Massive Stone Walls Of The Prison, Like Being At The Exact Center Of A Hurricane, And Finding Peace And Silence In The Middle Of So Much Shrieking Damage.

Lindsay Calls Them The Pugs: Pretty From Far Away, Ugly Up Close.

Mistake, Mistake, Mistake. A Strange Word: Stinging, Somehow.

Somewhere In The Endless Spinning Of Eternity That One, Tiny, Fraction Of A Second Where Our Lips Met Is Lost Forever.

He Looked At Me Like I Was Beautiful.