While at my mothers a couple weeks ago, I indulged in the powers of nostalgia after finding my old early childhood journalings, the one’s they made me write in school, wherein I must have explored incredible depths of pure sorrow and spiritual...I played inside a jungle gym at McDonald’s a long time ago. That place was once under the sun, and families would go there before health came into fashion. There was a plastic blue shelf for our shoes, there were chairs and tables for the parents to mingle at...Oh, imaginary pillow-girlfriend, how I love you so.The above statement could easily stand alone. I wouldn’t bother explaining the simple rhetoric that goes into saying something embarrassingly human. But I’m bored and curious, so I’m going to explain...The following is A string of thoughts, fiction, and poetry strung together randomly and indecipherably for your inconvenience— My home is not like other homes, which is not to suggest some supernatural element has taken hold onto my life as one might infer due...I dreamed that Salvador Dali was telling me about how to create dreamers. He took me to a maze within an enormous field of grass so tall you could hardly see over it. The doors of a small school house opened and a horde of children came running out towards the...In this world I’ll never seethe dreams that push me out from bed.In clouds I face what cannot beso morning sun I’ll always dread .