Amor Deliria Nervosa Isn't A Disease Of

Fridays Are The Hardest In Some Ways: You’re So Close To Freedom.

Snapshots, Moments, Mere Seconds: As Fragile And Beautiful And Hopeless As A Single Butterfly, Flapping On Against A Gathering Wind.

Music, I Think, He Makes Me Feel Like Music

It Is A Ruined-world, A Nonsense-place.

...the Past: It Drifts, It Gathers. If You Are Not Careful, It Will Bury You. This Is Half The Reason For The Cure: It Clean-sweeps; It Makes The Past, And All Its Pain, Distant, Like The Barest Impression On Sparkling Glass.