There Are Things That Can't Be Said,

Happy Is What You Realize You Are A Fraction Of A Second Before It's Too Late.

It's About The Connecting Force From Form To Form. It's The Toe Bone Connecting To The Shoulder Bone. It's The Bacterial Kick Of Life Force, Something Growing Out Of Nothing, Forming Itself Out Of Something Else. Form Never Stops. And Form Is Always Environmental.

I Don't Want A Tombstone. You Could Carve On It 'she Never Actually Wanted A Tombstone.'

Google Is So Strange. It Promises Everything, But Everything Isn’t There. You Type In The Words For What You Need, And What You Need Becomes Superfluous In An Instant, Shadowed Instantaneously By The Things You Really Need, And None Of Them Answerable By Google.

We're Well Past The End Of The Century When Time, For The First Time, Curved, Bent, Slipped, Flash Forwarded, And Flashed Back Yet Still Kept Rolling Along. We Know It All Now, With Our Thoughts Traveling At The Speed Of A Tweet, Our 140 Characters In Search Of A Paragraph. We're Post-history. We're Post-mystery.