You don’t believe what you write.

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”


“Hi! I’m Anxiety! Where can I put my stuff?”

Wish I knew what you were looking for.

“I’m thirty-seven.” “What?”

A humiliating kick in the crotch.

Crunchwrap supreme.

Too much time on my hands.

Still playing for time.

Mock me with praise.