I Think There Is Just A Vein

They Grew Fat And Happy--the Horses, Not The Children, Or Marlena For That Matter.

... A Gaggle Of Old Ladies Is Glued To The Window At The End Of The Hall Like Children Or Jailbirds. They're Spidery And Frail, Their Hair As Fine As Mist. Most Of Them Are A Good Decade Younger Than Me, And This Astounds Me. Even As Your Body Betrays You, Your Mind Denies It.--there Are Five Of Them Now, White Headed Old Things Huddled Together And Pointing Crooked Fingers At The Glass.

The More Distressing The Memory, The More Persistent It's Presence.

It's Just A Crazy Damned Life, That's All.

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