I Look After Those Who Look After

The Only Thing That Makes Me Crazier Than Writing Is Not Writing.

He Stares At Me, And Then Leans Back In His Chair. "he's Ill, Jacob." I Say Nothing. "he's A Paragon Schnitzophonic." "he's What?!" "paragon Schnitzophonic," Repeats Uncle Al. "you Mean Paranoid Schizophrenic?" "sure. Whatever. But The Bottom Line Is He's Mad As A Hatter.

When Did I Stop Being Me?

Even When I Look Straight Into The Milky Blue Eyes I Can't Find Myself Any More. When Did I Stop Being Me?

When Will People Learn That Just Because You Can Make Something Doesn’t Mean You Should?