Paper, thread, glue, leather… patience.

I doubt I am what I eat.

Court side, back stage, upper deck, skybox, top tier, and grand stand. They don’t get any better for me.

Should we even care why? Or is it truly important?

Not just a drop of paint.

My loves have made me… yup.

Why would anybody? But they do, anyway.

A look that kills. Or comforts?

In what I see of their impossible perfection

A Chupacabra walks into a bar with an abacus.

The more you know. But did you want to?

Everything eventually comes to an end.

Marionettes until we cut the strings. Or what we think the strings were.

Not to a path well worn with torment to follow.

I can regrettably say, the strange and weird are nothing I haven’t seen before.

It’s not all negative Nancy in a shop full of Todds.

Choosing and unbound

Need to check the mental padlocks.

Take me to that mood voodoo place you do.

For me it can be quite literally a coin toss.