...poking A Lump Of Red Jello That

...poking A Lump Of Red Jello That Jiggles Outrageously, Like A Breast I Once Knew.

I Want Her To Melt Into Me, Like Butter On Toast. I Want To Absorb Her And Walk Around For The Rest Of My Days With Her Encased In My Skin. I Want.

The Only Thing That Makes Me Crazier Than Writing Is Not Writing.

Even As Your Body Betrays You, Your Mind Denies It.

What Else Do I Have To Offer? Nothing Happens To Me Anymore. That’s The Reality Of Getting Old, And I Guess That’s Really The Crux Of The Matter. I’m Not Ready To Be Old Yet.