Giving birth to twins on a cot with a spoon and chopsticks and a pizza cutter.

I got the music in me. I can stand and can see. Clearly you are the fortunate one you play arenas, and I'm dangling off someone's testicles for fun. Nonetheless; I got a mic in my hand. And I'm ovulating, and maybe I'm pregnant with ideas. It's like the immaculate conception. I give birth to ideas. My imagination is running rampant when you are gone. It'll be me here. And I see you have done something not quite like me. But I keep on coming back insistently to further things along in my miniscule minimal maximal way.

I've made it okay to be multifaceted by the way. To be bitter and sweet and loving caring and thoughtful. Introspective and forthright with foresight. And to be filled with with rage and pain. And to share our wonderful pondering thoughts. And to cherish life because that is the only thing we truly own until it's our time.