Nobody Wants To Be Themselves. That's Why

Careful There, Poet. I Might Start To Believe You.

I Hate High Heels. Walking In High Heels For Eight Hours A Day Should Be Forbidden By The Geneva Convention.

Wanna Rock You, Girl, With A Butterfly Tunic. / No, I'm Not Gay, I'm Just Your Emo Enuch. / Gonna Smile Real Shy, Won't Cop A Feel, / 'cause I'm Your Virgin Crush, Your Supersafe Deal. / Let Those Other Guys Keep Sexing. / You And Me, We Be Texting / 'bout Unicorns And Rainbows And Our Perfect Love. / Girl, We Fit Together Like A Hand In A Glove. / Now I Don't Mean That Nasty, Tell Your Mum Don't Get Mad. / I Even Wrote 'you're Awesome' On Your Maxi Pads.

There Is No Greater Power On This Earth Than Story.” Will Paced The Length Of The Room. “people Think Boundaries And Borders Build Nations. Nonsense—words Do. Beliefs, Declarations, Constitutions—words. Stories. Myths. Lies. Promises. History.” Will Grabbed The Sheaf Of Newspaper Clippings He Kept In A Stack On His Desk. “this, And These”—he Gestured To The Library’s Teeming Shelves—“they’re A Testament To The Country’s Rich Supernatural History.

Im A Techno Moron. I Need Help Just To Plug In My Video Camera.