Where does the love go when you set it on fire and vomit continuously on the side of the road, then drive away planting dreams every five miles?

Swallowed a lake of fire and woke up in the mountains. Feel sorry that you are sad. That maybe you know what a sick, twisted world it is.

Gently down the road. Torn.

I miss you.

I'm musing and dreaming, but it still doesn't fix the world. Not to worry though. The ego is strong--it's what nourishes me. Helps me think of ways to keep you awake, so that I don't completely hate myself when you destroy everything and all we're left with is memories.