I found a home in the spent wax of your candle@Everything2.com

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You meant for this node to be read by me, and I would like to respond	Stealing the worship of the muse's boyfriends	If you have to scream to be heard, you have nothing profound to say	What the Thunder Said
immortality of the soul in a nonjudgmental world of the dead	Charles Bukowski	voltage	Our eyes reflect the light of dead suns
Chunk Candles	I have lost many things, so many	The highways are the capillaries of the earth	Vancomycin
god help me	Luke's Scar	Work is worship	Patsy Cline
Wrong Turn	'nuff said	boring

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