A piece of cardboard rolling up into a functional and structural form. Brown leaves combusting grey shades of smoke, a form of language I have spoken before. So this is how I'm introducing myself to today's conversation. Oh and I'm thinking about them. I just keep talking about them. When I talk about them I am home. Can barely write my hands are aftershocks of the long night before. So many things I could say but getting cheesy just fucks with the flow. It's getting harder no words my head can pour. Then I remember my plans for the night that I bet I'll enjoy! Oh and I'm thinking about them. I just keep talking about them. When I sing about them I am home.