Is There An Existence That Is Only

Explorers Have To Be Ready To Die Lost.

Too-lateness, I Realized, Has Nothing To Do With Age. It’s A Relation Of Self To The Moment. Or Not, Depending On The Person And The Moment. Perhaps There Even Comes A Time When It’s No Longer Too Late For Anything. Perhaps, Even, Most Times Are Too Early For Most Things, And Most Of Life Has To Go By Before It’s Time For Almost Anything And Too Late For Almost Nothing. Nothing To Lose, The Present Moment To Gain, The Integration With Long-delayed Now.

Is There An Existence That Is Only Mine?

The Things That Matter Don't Necessarily Make Sense.

What A Weird Thing Smoking Is And I Can't Stop It. I Feel Cosy, Have A Sense Of Well-being When I'm Smoking, Poisoning Myself, Killing Myself Slowly. Not So Slowly Maybe. I Have All Kinds Of Pains I Don't Want To Know About And I Know That's What They're From. But When I Don't Smoke I Scarcely Feel As If I'm Living. I Don't Feel As If I'm Living Unless I'm Killing Myself.