Who are you? Who are you?
I am Theo.
I live in the sky, I live in your eyes.
I dream of coming down one day. I
dream of coming down to stay. I dream of
little less than the whole fucking entirety of it in my arms. Of squeezing all of that to my chest; of
pressing my face into the folds of skin and hair and sandpaper.
I am a small voice. We are all small voices. Perhaps I am the smallest. Perhaps not. No matter.
What matters is this. I write because I am driven to write. I want words. I want words written down. I need them. I need words like a monk needs peace, like a nun needs cock.
It won't all be nonsense. It won't. If one person reads these words, that will be more than enough. Ah but now I must succumb to the sweet charms of the bottle. It dozes and drugs me and drags me under, slowly.
