It Happens Just Because We Need To

I Chose The Shadows; They Did Not Choose Me. I Stay Here Securely Not Just Because I Feel Plain, But Because Disappearance Is By Now The Easy Way. The Habit. The Worn Path That I Can Trod Knowingly And Be Assured Safe Passage Home.

Do Not Ask The Definition Of A Friend. He/she Is That One Without Whose Company Death And Dying Set In Earlier And Living Is Made More Pleasurable.

The World Needs Writers. We Will Always Be Necessary. There Are Few Professions That Can Claim That Distinction.

I Cannot Speculate On What Our Cluttered Mind Will Save- Sleepy Sundays, Or A Nosebleed After Love. I Know Only The Dying Heart Needs The Nourishment Of Memory To Live Beyond Too Many Winters.

There Is No Other Way To Find Ourselves But In Each Others Faces.