All Of My Books Come From Pain.

I Want To Take You Away From This," I Say, Motioning Around The Kitchen, Spastic. "from Sushi And Elves And... Stuff.

And As Things Fell Apart, Nobody Paid Much Attention

By The Time You Finish Reading This Sentence, A Boeing Jetliner Will Take Off Or Land Somewhere In The World.

Is Evil Something You Are? Or Is It Something You Do?

And Though The Coldness I Have Always Felt Leaves Me, The Numbness Doesn't And Probably Never Will. This Relationship Will Probably Lead To Nothing... This Didn't Change Anything. I Imagine Her Smelling Clean, Like Tea.