13 agora and and we'd sputter-speed down empty freeways toward arizona or new york or iowa cornfields, and we'd pass by gasoline stations all sad and dark and oil refineries all sad and bright and motels all sad and lonely

12 in glass jars their lives are violent in their beauty.

102 beautiful insomniac darling, we are all adrenaline and paper cuts and raw electricity shudder-craving solar eclipses. stand here on the precipice of insanity and fall with me.