I picture the mind like a bottle and stopper sometimes. When it's contents are filled to capacity and the skull feels like a shook-up soda bottle, I choose to remove the stopper and let thoughts pour out onto paper.
“But at the end of the day “sexy” is just a four letter word we shouldn’t give a fuck about.”
Have you ever felt the despair of your creations burning before you?
What is the importance of an emergency banana to you?