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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave Well, man, you know what they say.

Well, man, you know what they say.”No, I don’t. I don’t know what they say. I don’t even know who they are. Who is this they? They seem pretty smug. They seem to think they know shit. Fuck them.

Bo Burnham
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Forever and an InstantForever and an instant met up one day,had a short but lovely talk,then each went on its way.
Bo Burnham
I love you just the way you arebut you don't see you like I do.You shouldn't try so hard to be perfect.Trust me, perfect should try to be you.
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Cup of JoeThere's nothing like a cup of joe,when the morning's grey and grim and slow,when the streets collide with the world outside,when litter lies where lilies grow.Just drink that smoking cup of blackand feel your feelings surging back.Plus, spill a drop and a coffee shopwill sprout up from a sidewalk crack!
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9 likes Like Facebook_icon“Read this to yourself. Read it silently.Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice:"Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?"Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that?How?! It must've been magic.
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MmmmmmI like that thing you do with your tongue. What do you call it? Speaking? Yeah, I dig it
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I put a chameleon on a red dildo... He blushed
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Sully suffers from a stutter,simple syllables will clutter,stalling speeches up on beacheslike a sunken sailboat rudder.Sully strains to say his phrases,sickened by the sounds he raises,strings of thoughts come out in knots,he solves his sentences like mazes.At night, he writes his thoughts insteadand sighs as they steadily rush from his head.
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Hanged"I hung myself today. Hanged? Whatever,the point is I hanged myself today and I’m stillhanging.I feel fine. Just bored. I keep hoping thatsomeone will come home and cut me downbut then I keep remembering that if I knewsomeone like that I wouldn’t be up here. Bitironic, right? Or is that not ironic? I readsomewhere that, like, anything funny is,in some way, ironic. But I don’t know if it'sfunny or not. I don’t think my brain owns“funny”, you know?I feel taller. I like that.I’ve never been away from my shadow forthis long. It had always clung to my feet,parting momentarily for a quick dive intothe swimming pool. But never for fivehours. I like it. There’s three feet of spacebetween my two and the floor.I wanted something this morning. I may bestuck. But at least I’m three feet closer to it.
Bo Burnham
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