The only people for me are the mad ones - the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.

i am a ghost

I rarely turn right on red.

they will see us waving.

can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all.