The Zeitgeist of sticky, emotional internal monologue has returned. Please check out some of my new works as they're released. I pledge the gift of apple seeds, four way intersections and unconventional courtroom candour, that will make you wonder, who am I in the room with right now? And having found that it's me, you will pluck the stars like stickers from the sky and glue them over the back of your eyes. You will find that there has never been a better way to observe the rancid, gutteral streets, the lights even are brighter, sharper, seemingly more reliable. Then, later, you write about guilt, self-preservation, the cost of suffering, the loss of your dead, your living, your fears and false self-appraising beliefs, and you wonder: who am I in the room with right now? And having found that it is only yourself, you will count the stars and give testimony about how you've starved yourself in protest of death and then, invented a way to eat.
