If I Had a Penny for Every Time I Had to Answer the Door, I’d Have Five Pounds Sixty-three.
I am a slightly out-of-focus international conspiracy, and a law unto myself.
I tend a small cloning operation and a questionably legal dinosaur farm.
I was pod, delivered to a healer of people and a man of music, brought to Asheville to live a life sentence in this (reasonably glorious) suit of meat.
Anywhere my Dolphin will carry me.
Home, which is a few million light years after you make a right around Orion and punch through the veil.
Often enough to know.
Nothing that doesn’t show.
Coffee, salt, Carl Angel-5 pencil sharpeners, hallucinations, conscious thought.
My single interdimensionally intertwined traveler. Without that spirit, I would return to that dark place I lived before time.