All My Life I Have

On Poetry: Everyone Wants To Know What It Means. But Nobody Is Asking, How Does It Feel?

For Some Things There Are No Wrong Seasons. Which Is What I Dream Of For Me.

Drive Down Any Road, Take A Train Or An Airplane Across The World, Leave Your Old Life Behind, Die And Be Born Again~ Wherever You Arrive They'll Be There First, Glossy And Rowdy And Indistinguishable. The Deep Muscle Of The World.

Tell Me About Despair, Yours, And I Will Tell You Mine

The Stars Began To Burn Through The Sheets Of Clouds, And There Was A New Voice Which You Slowly Recognized As Your Own.