R is for rocket and T is for turbulence. S is for sound effects and V is for violence. D is for dreams, donors, dogs and dimensions. L is for love of your wild-heart inventions. Well I dont believe in ghosts but i do believe in spirits. I don't think I'm going crazy but I think I'm hearing things. I haven't slept in a week. There's nothing good on TV. And when you tell me I'm not dreaming I just have to disbelieve, but for now I think I'll stay and hang around with you, I feel like I could get used to this point of view anyway. As I was saying before, I was so rudely interrupted, I'm a little self-creative but I'm mostly self-destructive but on the inside I have a smile, and I can laugh for a little while. . And I live mostly in my head, I sleep mostly in my bed, I dream mostly in my sleep and every night I wake up thinking I have something in my skin, and the ideas come flooding in, I have to let the daemon win, I have to play the violin. And I don't understand why everyone is insisting on staying mad, you can't get mad at good for not existing, and I'd like to add: I'm friends with the sluts and I'm friends with the nerds, and I'm friends with myself, and it could be much worse, and you are my favorite, you're my cup of tea, you're my bowl of tomatoes, you make me complete and I really like you like bees like carnations, I'm drowning in dreams of your wild heart creations Well I'm a little self creative but I'm mostly self destructive, and I tend time to have bad habits , and one day they all erupted, they engulfed me in their flame and I was never ever the same (or sane) and now the night time is my playground and the devil is my companion, the stars are my audience and I'm singing to Orion and the thrill of it makes me quake; I can't remember feeling so awake. I like to listen to machinery, I listen to the birds. I like to listen to that music but I do not know the words and I write some songs in my dreams (and I don't know what that means?) Because I'm a little self creative but I'm mostly self destructive, I'm not usually outspoken but I'm often interrupted, I'm the tree that was never climbed; you are the words that I cannot find. And I've forgotten all the faces, I've forgotten all the rules, I've forgotten what my place is, everything I've learned in school and there's yet so much left to learn, that I'm afraid it won't all fit. There was a moral to this story, but I have forgotten it too. R is for rocket and T is for tongue tied, S is for starving and B is for butterflies. Kissing is for play and telling is forbidden, dreams are for art and are soon forgotten.

Lanterns of plasma, planets of ice, clouds of sugar. Silence of titans, giants of gas, orbits of gravity. Ages of ageless bodies of matter. Sidereal motion. Shelves of coral, shells of crabs, pouches of ink. Trenches of darkness, chambers of magma, echolocation. Corpses of whales, wreckage of ships, coldness and sightlessness. Seasons of sadness, caves of glass, fountains of oil. Flows of lava, Cliffside of rust. Mountains of granite. Drifting of continents, systems of storms. Climates of restlessness. Shelves of books, facts of fiction, bridging of synapses. Hours of sunshine, powers of ten. Limits of reason. Hallways of institutions of youth. Light of stars light-years away. (Charlton Heston: But, one more thing, if anybody's listening, that is. Nothing scientific, it's purely personal. Seen from out here, everything seems different. Time bends. Space is...boundless. It squashes a man's ego. I feel lonely. That's about it.)

The gods concocted a primordial stew, then they left it in the ocean just to see what it would do and so it copied itself in a recursive algorithm, diversified itself with a little competition. There were trilobites and nautiloids and mollusks and crustaceans, there were ferns and jawless fish, there was preying and predation. A few took to the land and a few took to the sky, and the gods scorched the earth just to see who would survive. The dinosaurs on land became the next paradigm, but to the dieties were hardly more enthralling than the slime and so those crafty gods, with their mischievous diversions, sent another wave of death, just to see if it would purge them. But some had feathered wings and some escaped into the water. The world became much colder and the world became much hotter. In the Savannah a new creature appeared, their curious multitudes blanketing the earthly sphere. The gods were quite pleased with their brand new beast: the cultivator, warrior, architect and priest. We gave names to the gods and we gave names to their creations, we gave laws to the world and drew borders for our nations. Prometheus had given us the power to learn: in thanks, we used it to burn, burn, burn, and the other gods left him to die, over and over again, until the end of time. But soon Pandora, by way of her box, brought forth pestilence and agony and sorrow and pox, and as dearly and regretfully she tried, she could not get it all back inside. The long years passed with nary snow nor ice until Hades abducted fair Eurydice, and the strings under his fingers twirled, as Orpheus followed her into the underworld. With Orpheus' skull and Apollo's lyre, Pandora's box and Prometheus' fire, Mankind usurped the gods' great throne And they retreated away into the black unknown. And so he leapt himself, into that terrible void Abandoning the dying earth that he destroyed, All blemishes and crooked scars, Seeking his place among innumerable stars.

And sometimes it seems like the world is against you, you spit, scream, stutter and fight. And it's easy to think that your friends are against you, it's not right, oh I know it's not right. Well I try not to be paranoid, but it comes so easily to me. And at the end of the day, all I have is myself, and that's ok.

This cabin's a jail cell, this ship is a tinder box, this cockpit is filled with lights and wires and chairs. I've been in this mission for God-knows-how-many years, now I'm all out of fuel and the oxygen is low. One day they might find me here, cold, still and quiet (As long as I don't get sucked into a star.) I've broken so many things, some feelings, some toes, some strings, a few awkward silences, some promises too. I hope things are ok at home, I miss my family. I miss the fights and nights spent watching TV. There sure were a lot of things I could have done different. Can't think of that now. It's too far away. I had an angry dog, he liked to bite my friends. He was so happy chewing on rubber or plastic. I guess he was like me that way; I had to teethe and scratch, I tend to hurt the ones I love the most. I said, "Please don't lock me up in the kennel alone! I'll be good this time! And I always come home!" I know that loneliness feels like an empty house. It feels like eternities spent looking at walls. I'm friends with those creatures that live in the back of my mind, filling it with regrets and sorrows and fears, seeing the moonlight through their oversize pupils, small furry hands grasping at leaves in the dark. They chitter and squeak all night, in their garbage can whispers, sneezing and blinking as the daylight comes.