faint lit eyes slowly swallowing vibes from the waist line,
only dreams came deliver these things to my bedside,
any shrugs says shes pullin the plugs to the outside

What is it about the creative spirit that often makes it so self-deprecating and sometimes so self-damaging? Did we all suffer the same childhood torments? What happens to the same spirit that drives people to points of world-changing genius? And what flips the switch and makes us believe that som