I Think My Writing Has Become "cleaner."

You Can Touch Everything And Be Connected To Nothing.

Nowadays, I Dont Have Expectations, And This Way She Beats Them All.

The World Just Feels Different For Those Of Us Who Come Alive After Dark. It's More Fragile And Unreal, A Replica Of The One Everyone Else Inhabits.

Sometimes There Aren't Words. The Silence Between Us Is Flung Wide As An Ocean. But I Manage To Reach Across It, To Wrap My Arms Around Him.

Q: How Would You Like Your Eggs In The Morning? A: Unfertilized