I Wanted To Be Where Nobody I

Feel Oddly Barren. My Sickness Is When Words Draw In Their Horns And The Physical World Refuses To Be Ordered, Recreated, Arranged And Selected. I Am A Victim Of It Then, Not A Master.

There Was A Beautiful Time.

I Hurl My Heart To Halt His Pace.

I Felt Like A Racehorse In A World Without Racetracks.

Every Day One Has To Earn The Name Of 'writer' Over Again, With Much Wrestling.