The drugs are sleep and solitude. When I can get them, I abuse them. Epic dreams that spin out of single words: Once, Rage, Bones and even Dreaming. In solitude, singing to a roomful of skulls. Watching the smiles. As if it were the last time, the last songs, the last sounds. Playing myself into laughter and tears. Pushing my bones across the strings. Listening to the silence in between everything. The fires that burned the flesh in the Desert - night after night - occupy my mind. I had not even noticed that I have been collecting wood again. And that honey burns my tongue.
