Death And I Are Head To Head

It Is Like Visiting One's Funeral, Like Visiting Loss In Its Purest And Most Monumental Form, This Wild Darkness, Which Is Not Only Unknown But Which One Cannot Enter As Oneself.

I Am In An Adolescence In Reverse, As Mysterious As The First, Except That This Time I Feel It As A Decay Of The Odds That I Might Live For A While, That I Can Sleep It Off.

If You Like To Read, Sometimes It's Interesting Just To Go And See What The Reality Is, Of The Word, Of The Seedy Or Not So Seedy Fiction Writer, The Drunk Or Sober Poet... Sometimes You Can Go Looking For Illumination.

Memory, So Complete And Clear Or So Evasive, Has To Be Ended, Has To Be Put Aside, As If One Were Leaving A Chapel And Bringing The Prayer To An End In One's Head.

Death Is Not Soft-mouthed, Vague-footed, Nearby. It Is In The Hall.