Nelson Algren And The Stolen Typewriter

Her name was devastation, and when she was around it was always better to speak low if you were speaking of love. All of her old friends bled to death from the holes in there stories. And while their blood may have dried faster than the ink, the latter will always make a deeper impression.

Never regret your best intentions. Write them down late at night and sleepwalk through history with me. We are a story, slowly unfolding. When everything is a little out of line we'll make our move to escape. It's now or forever.

Lightening on thunder. Sleepless. Sometimes when the lights go out, so do the feelings that matter the most. I'm pretty sure that the night light was just invented to keep the conscience awake. I only want to exi(s)t.

Dear Charlotte, it's just not working out.