Everywhere He Touches Is Fire.

It's Funny How You Can Know Your Friends So Well, But You Still End Up Playing The Same Games With Them.

Willing Me To Understand: That People Should Be Sacrificed To Causes, That Beauty Can Be Built On The Backs Of The Dead.

Droplets, Droplets: We Are All Identical Drips And Drops Of People, Hovering, Waiting To Be Tipped, Waiting For Someone To Show Us The Way, To Pour Us Down A Path.

Direction, Like Time, Is A General Thing, The Deprived Of Boundaries And Borders. It Is An Endless Process Interception And Reinterception, Doubling Back And Adjusting.

He Who Leaps For The Sky May Fall, It's True. But He May Also Fly.