Catch Me On A Good

Chuck Said, “hey. How Many Surrealists Does It Take To Screw In A Lightbulb?” Cawley Looked Over At Him. “i’ll Bite. How Many?” “fish,” Chuck Said And Let Loose A Bright Bark Of A Laugh.

How Many Psychiatrists Does It Take To Screw In A Lightbulb?” “i Don’t Know. How Many?” “eight.” “why?” “oh, Stop Overanalyzing It.

How Am I Supposed To Let You Go, That's All I'm Asking. I Want To Hold You Again, Smell You, And, Yes Too, I Just Want You To Fade. To Please, Please Fade.

Whatever She Saw Beyond The Camera Lens, Beyond The Photographer, Beyond Anything In The Known World Probably - Wasn't Fit To Be Seen.

He Wondered If This Was What Clinical Depression Felt Like, A Total Numbness, A Weary Lack Of Hope.