I'm a Pilot.

Where did propriety leave this? Indignity and profanity; professionally wrapped with a glitzy gold ribbon and bow. How do you fall in love? Oh, there she goes; with all her demented perspectives of this place. and Love with love unrequited, and romeo with his cigarettes. Yuck. Spinning desire of sunshine state blood? You have lost your damn mind. Uproariously canny was more than two days ago; now it's just annoying. I don't think you know your choices and I know you don't love that. What do you? What are you seeing when eyes are closed? Memories-dreams-visions-hopes? or E) none of the above. Let's see those cheeks rose up.

There is no such thing as redemption. No matter what, it's not erased. It's not forgiven either. Because forgiveness is bullshit. There's only the future. And that's really all that matters. There's obscenity and obesity, curious and inquiries, medicine and infirmaries. But there's feelings in between. There's fatality and virginity; longevity and felicity. You can't fall with railings, unless it's raining. That is a completely different novel; a notion undefined.

but defied, because orders are orders and promises are lies meant to be broken eventually. Technicalities; you thought about it, and that's a sin. You're a goddamn sinner, how does that make you feel?

Your body is made of water. And water runs. Water flows, and it can knock over buildings. In waves, it can drown entire cities. It can kill people. And then--it can save people. That's true beauty; being both good and evil at the same time. Knowing the danger and still going for a swim. Because water will be there for you when you need it, right? When your thirsty, when you're sweaty. That's human/ personification.

Everyday you played sick, your family wasted fifty bucks. My mother spent thousands on just my absences, and that's a catholic education. Funny, Jesus never charged for parables, no entrance fee at church. You know, He never made the twelve apostles wear the same clothes, either. He never bought them BMW's. Oh, but it's in the past; mine, at least, and that's a relief.

Poor Thomas from Washington. Maybe there's a reason he's on his bike at midnight, other than being lost. Well, in my defense, he was blonde and looking for colonial. Maybe he got mugged, or maybe he's a dealer? Maybe he's got a girlfriend he's gonna marry in Sweden once he finds a way to bicycle across the atlantic. Either way, I couldn't help. I still feel like a jerk about it.