Nobody Sounds Good Writing About Your Divorce,

For Me, Everything's Too Much And Nothing's Enough.

I Get So Lonely Sometimes, I Could Put A Box On My Head And Mail Myself To A Stranger.

I've Never Contended That I Had A Really Horrible Life.

There's A Space At The Bottom Of An Exhale, A Little Hitch Between Taking In And Letting Out That's A Perfect Zero You Can Go Into. There's A Rest Point Between The Heart Muscle's Close And Open - An Instant Of Keenest Living When You're Momentarily Dead. You Can Rest There.

But I'm Not Ready To Stop Listening To The Screwed-up Inner Voice That's Been Ordering Me Around For A Lifetime. My Head Thinks It Can Kill Me... And Go On Living Without Me.