Burn All The Maps To Your Body.

God-forsaken Is Beautiful, Too.

Because You Always Have A Clock Strapped To Your Body, It's Natural That I Should Think Of You As The Correct Time: With Your Long Blonde Hair At 8:03, And Your Pulse-lightning Breasts At 11:17, And Your Rose-meow Smile At 5:30, I Know I'm Right.

I Had Become So Quiet And So Small In The Grass By The Pond That I Was Barely Noticeable, Hardly There... I Sat There Watching Their Living Room Shining Out Of The Dark Beside The Pond. It Looked Like A Fairy Tale Functioning Happily In The Post-world War Ii Gothic Of America Before Television Crippled The Imagination Of America And Turned People Indoors And Away From Living Out Their Own Fantasies With Dignity... Anyway, I Just Kept Getting Smaller And Smaller Beside The Pond, More And More Unnoticed In The Darkening Summer Grass Until I Disappeared Into The 32 Years That Have Passed Since Then.

Like Some Kind Of Strange Vacuum Cleaner I Tried To Console Him. I Recited The Same Old Litanies That You Say To People When You Try To Help Their Broken Hearts, But Words Can't Help At All. It's Just The Sound Of Another Human Voice That Makes The Only Difference. There's Nothing You're Ever Going To Say That's Going To Make Anybody Happy When They're Feeling Shitty About Losing Somebody That They Love.

There Are Not Too Many Fables About Man's Misuse Of Sunflower Seeds.