“I miss you so much my lungs have forgotten how to breathe.”

“So I’m figuring this is death. The little air left in the cockpit is toxic with marthenine, and I can only wonder how much of it I have breathed in. Is my throat becoming raw hamburger? My lungs, oatmeal?”

“You were the missing piece of my soul, the breath in my lungs, and the blood in my veins.”

“You never know how much you need music until you don't have it. I missed it so much my heart hurt.”

“For the first time in my life, I've felt whole, alive, free. You were the missing piece of my soul, the breath in my lungs, the blood in my veins.”

“But I have long loved the written word, and come to see in it the power of the sleeping lion. This is my name. This is who I am. This is how I got here. In the absence of an audience, I will write down my story so that it waits like a restful beast with lungs breathing and heart beating.”