Nothing Holds Love Together Like Shared Vice

Nicotine And Alcohol Embraced In My System Like Long-parted Siblings, Grateful To Me For Reuniting Them.

You Can't Blame Me. I Mean That Literally. You're Incapable Of Blaming Me. You're Human. Being Human Is Choosing Freedom Over Imprisonment, Autonomy Over Dependency, Liberty Over Servitude. You Can't Blame Me Because You Know (come On, Man, You've Always Known) That The Idea Of Spending Eternity With Nothing To Do Except Praise God Is Utterly Unappealing. You'd Be Catatonic After An Hour. Heaven's A Swiz Because To Get In You Have To Leave Yourself Outside. You Can't Blame Me Because -- Now Do Please Be Honest With Yourself For Once -- You'd Have Left, Too.

Home Pulls. It Draws You Back To Tell You You Don't Belong.

Words Betrayed Her: Beautiful Butterflies In Her Mind; Dead Moths When She Opened Her Mouth For Their Release Into The World.

Life's Generally Artless ... But It Does Get These Occasional Hard-ons For Plot. It Connects Things, Nefariously, Behind Your Back, And Before You Know It You're In The Final Act Of A Lousy Movie.