Zelle: [email protected]

Rough trip.

Also amazing.

Too far and fast to count.

I need fingers, singers,

Stars.

The ride is violently humbling

And morally horrific. 

Faced with the self, the self freaks out and does donuts in the parking lot of life. 

Hardcore moral terror.

Kicking van, bouncy road, crying cat, every inch an odyssey through the harried, furry fire.

Turns out, heaven and hell are inches away.

They are not here, but they stand on our chest at all times.

I am not a good person.

It is hard to steer a leaky clown through a thunderstorm while balanced on one foot.

There are only ever captains in the moon meat. Everything else must

Go. Not only go, but go

Insane.

This is the inside of your brain.

A quiet, burning toy.

A screeching tire shouts for joy.

5.22.26