My Friend "m" Says The Irony Of

I Notice Faint Scars On Her Wrists And Forearms, Thin Lines Too Symmetrical To Be Accidents.

The Shadows Of The Room Pool In The Lines Of Our Faces, Draining Our Eyes Of Hue. "there's Nothing Left Worth Saying.

Of Course, If I Eat All Of Him, If I Spare His Brain, He'll Rise Up And Follow Me Back To The Airport, And That Might Make Feel Better. I'll Introduce Him To Everyone, And Maybe We'll Stand Around And Groan For A While. It's Hard To Say What 'friends' Are Any More, But That Might Be Close.

What's Wrong With People?" She Says, Almost Too Quiet For Me To Hear. "were They Born With Parts Missing Or Did It Fall Out Somewhere Along The Way?

You Know Things Are Moving. You're Changing, You Fellow Dead Are Changing, The World Is Ready For Something Miraculous. What Are We Waiting For?