We All Want To Explain Ourselves. Nobody

There's Still A Thousand Places I Haven't Gone To Die.

For Six Months I Couldn't Sleep. With Insomnia, Nothing's Real. Everything Is Far Away. Everything Is A Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy.

Jump To The Day We'll All Be Dead And None Of This Will Matter. Jump To The Day Another House Will Stand Here And The People Living There Won't Know We Ever Happened.

Reject The Basic Assumptions Of Civilization, Especially The Importance Of Material Possessions.

Crying Is Right At Hand In The Smothering Dark, Closed Inside Someone Else, When You See How Everything You Can Ever Accomplish Will End Up As Trash.