I Think My Writing Has Become "cleaner."

Hope And Reality Lie In Inverse Proportions, Inside The Walls Of A Hospital... Doubt Is Like Dye. Once Is Spreads Into The Fabric Of Excuses You've Woven, You'll Never Get Rid Of The Stain.

I Look For Places Like Me: Big, Hollow, Forgotten By Most Everyone.

No, Honestly, My Mouth Shouldn't Be Able To Function Unless My Brain's Engaged.

Maybe You Had To Leave In Order To Really Miss A Place; Maybe You Had To Travel To Figure Out How Beloved Your Starting Point Was.

You'd Think Someone Who'd Been To Medical School Would Be Able To Hear Through A Stethoscope That Somebody Was Empty Inside.