His fingers are so cold. He's been rubbing them slippery-fast together. I can tell his skin burned when the friction was the heat he made, but it's the flesh underneath that steals his heart and mine. I jump away from him and I can tell it breaks his heart.
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I will make you cry tears of blood. Get ready to be depressed.
Dance in the Full Moon
O, the Frailty of Memory
Pride Goeth Before a Fall
Hindsight
My Serial Mistakes
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This is Your Fault
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I'm in the business of relentless optimism. My friend's boat broke down five miles from the ramp and a storm whipped us backwards, s...
Sheeple
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