Punker, poet, sinner, saint, somewhere between your worst nightmare plus fangs and a fiery guardian angel with a brilliant flaming sword, I shift between cement and tears, mythology and journalism, Detroit and the beach.
I am not who you think I am, or maybe I am. It's hard to say when there's only words on the screen; no inflection or facial tick to betray what goes on under the surface. Are we all pretend? Or is there some kernel of truth planted deep within our soil bodies that only decay through time?
I am the sum of my stories that I spin for my pleasure.
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