Yeah, so giddy I'll confess... Light-years past crazy baby. Constellations of bruises, a silver sort of stench of starburst blood drops, sickening rainbow... purple, green, yellow... of healing. Anyone else would be too. But its a gift really. What hasn't killed me's made me stronger, right? Strong and brave enough to grasp the icy tail of a rushing shooting star and hold on, sharp and cold and clean, ever tighter while mountains and oceans fade. The lunatic soul locked inside the body constricts with each breath and beat. Until it surrenders with unbearable brightness. Supernova in a straitjacket.