I Think If You Are

Happiness. Simple As A Glass Of Chocolate Or Tortuous As The Heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive.

Death Should Be A Celebration. Like A Birthday. I Want To Go Up Like A Rocket When My Time Comes, And Fall Down In A Cloud Of Stars, And Hear Everyone Go: Ahh!

And So Nat Stood Up And Joined The Group, And Followed, And Watched, And Awaited His Chance As The Light Of Chaos Lit The Plain And Gods And Demons Marched To War.

I Could Do With A Bit More Excess. From Now On I'm Going To Be Immoderate--and Volatile--i Shall Enjoy Loud Music And Lurid Poetry. I Shall Be Rampant.

I Have An Advanced Degree In Procrastination And Another One In Paranoia.