I feel like giving away. Giving away everything I could ever find. Maybe stars, maybe storms. In this beautiful era, I could only pull. Some attention to the story and a flow to the tip. Where bleeding with pen on your hand, soul relapsing below. You could only manufacture so many things, but, the world is one brilliant thing. I may give away everything I ever find, but if it’s the stars they shine and if it’s the stars they whine.