The Past Is Not A Package One

A Light Exists In Spring Not Present In The Year At Any Other Period When March Is Scarcely Here.

A Letter Always Seemed To Me Like Immortality Because It Is The Mind Alone Without Corporeal Friend.

Forever Is Comprised Of Nows.

There Is A Pain So Utter, It Swallows Being Up; The Covers The Abyss With A Trance So Memory Can Step Around, Across, Upon It.

Existence Has Overpowered Books. Today I Slew A Mushroom.