To those who think that the ridiculous should stay ridiculous, I beseech you.
Manuscripts will be written and the words will travel through history to enlighten the few who will choose to appreciate.
A heart-felt welcome to my comrades is in order.
Mandolins play only for the solemn.
Lies and truths dance together to a song only heard in questions.
We write our music in open conversation.
Lace and velvet line your faith as it hangs from the string of your own devotion.
Let’s hurt each other.
My cardboard box waits for memories.
Benches do indeed contemplate murder.
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