While Inhabiting a Glass House.

My heart once belonged to a grand ocean.

The waves brushed across my chambers,

adding a mother’s touch to my freshly dried wounds.

But these were dreams I’ve forgotten since long ago.

Dreams which must have been so meaningful to me.



Shaken, not stirred, my friend.

Fire can’t warm me up at this point, as I am already dead.

The winter’s getting a little colder every single year.

I am afraid I won’t be sticking around to see the next one.



I’ve heard about your crisis.

You’re no longer the man among gods in my head.

We all have our vices.

But not one of them makes me believe we’ll make it out unscathed again.