“WEWhen it is over, we breathe and ache like old oak, like peeling birch. One of Our lost souls set free. We move, a chess piece in a dark room, cast-iron legs moving a centimeter at a time, crying out in silent carved graffiti. Calling to Our next victim, Our next savior. We carve on Our face:Touch me.Save my soul. ”

“WE We feel the heat, and for a moment, We believe! Life is back. But this heat is intense, not gentle. Not submissive but searing. Painful. We moan, scream, Our face cracking like gunfire... like a whip. Thirty-five, one hundred. One hundred! ONE HUNDRED! The fire consumes our wooden host. It burns, breaks, explodes. Releases Our remaining souls to travel to Our final resting places. Or. To find new places to hide. And wait. Touch me.”

“Sawyer turned our friendship off like a faucet, but I can't help it - my faucet of love has a really bad leak.”

“Time to stop crying, time to get her act together and do something. Time to move beyond the pity party.”

“He moves like a dancer.”

“A trapped soul waits for redemption.It waits. And waits.For her to take her last breath.”

“When we accomplish one thing, our ego wants to bask in the glory, though our soul is ready to move on to the next.”