pI needed a bed to tuck the monsters underneath. I found myselfbr expelling every crippling thing onto paper, like I was feeding mybr soul with ink. That's why I started writing. I guess I could havebr learned how to fold paper cranes, or attended another seminarbr on how to stop using thumbtacks to control my anger, but Ibr digress. Do you know what it's like to feel so unclean that youbr try all the wrong things to get a smidge closer to purity If youbr do, then you can connect to the poems and prose that you'rebr about to read. This book is my distillery. Was my distillery It is, br and was, and always will be. It's my everything and nothing.br Oh, along my journey I also wrote some positive pieces andbr placed them in here, for there is always a silver lining.p