Everybody Told Me To Be A Man.

Oppressive Bastards, Think They Own The Place. I Told Them That Karma's Going To Kick Their Asses.

Why Not Spend That Time On Art: Painting, Sculpting, Charcoal, Pastel, Oils? Are Words Or Numbers More Important Than Images? Who Decides This? Does Algebra Move You To Tears? Can Plural Possessives Express The Feelings In Your Heart? If You Don't Learn Art Now, You Will Never Learn To Breathe!

What Do I Want? The Answer To That Question Does Not Exist.

Cold And Silence. Nothing Quieter Than Snow. The Sky Screams To Deliver It, A Hundred Banshees Flying On The Edge Of The Blizzard. But Once The Snow Covers The Ground, It Hushes As Still As My Heart.

If I Run Or Breathe Too Deep, The Cheap Stitches Holding Me Together Will Snap, And All The Stickiness Inside Will Pour Out And Burn Through The Concrete.