No Tears, Please. It's A Waste Of

..she Had That Brand Of Pragmatism That Would Find Her The First Brewing Tea After Armageddon.

Flesh Could Not Keep Its Glamour, Nor Eyes Their Sheen. They Would Go To Nothing Soon. But Monsters Are Forever.

You Are My Beauty, My Body, Perfected. All I Was Drained Off Into You. When You Left, My Health Went With You - Leaving A Moral Morbidity I Smell In My Sleep. The Acts I Committed For The Love Of You. Acts I Can Never Forget. I Crawled Into The Bellies Of The Dead To Fish Out A Little Life... I Have An Appetite For It Now. I Have An Unrelenting Lust For Death.

Writing About The Unholy Is One Way Of Writing About What Is Sacred.

My Father Used To Say: Every Bird Is One Bird, And Every Book Is One Book, And Every Bird And Every Book Is One Thing Too, Under The Words And The Feathers." He Finished With A Flourish, As Though The Meaning Of This Was Self-evident.