there's so much more i want to tell you, about all the things Jules and I said that night when we rode the orange train. about boccacio and the decameron and boys and girls who do girls who do boyfucks. the dreams i've had where everything is filed away and compartmentalized and i love to hide, but not to deal. not to steal.

i want to talk about goethe and how this walkman looks like an egg. this keyoard might be dush.

i'm nearly reformed so don't say that you weren't warned.