People Just Weren't Interesting. Maybe They Weren't

It Was Too Much. The Comfortable People Made Comfortable Jokes About Weather And Things But I Sat Mostly Silent Saying A Word Or So When Necessary A Word Or So Trying To Hide From Them The Fact That I Was A Fool And Feeling Terrible And I Was Numb, Numb Again, Numb Again Again And Again, Numbness And Pain Swelling In Me.

Why Do You Insist Upon Destroying Yourself?

… And We Are In Bed Together Laughing And We Don’t Care About Anything.

But As God Said, Crossing His Legs, I See Where I Have Made Plenty Of Poets But Not So Very Much Poetry.

I Have Gotten So Used To Melancholia That I Greet It Like An Old Friend.