The Bloody Doors Off

What the fuck am I even doing here?

Graphic designer, playwright, occasional asshole

Fire is my friend.

Oh hello, Howard.

It’s been a while.

Months. Years?

People might not remember you. I wrote about you once or twice.

You’d been there for years, but over the last eight months, you were silent.

Why tonight? Why now?

I can be happy.

I can be.

I can.