What Have I Eaten? Lies And Smiles.

I Write Only Because There Is A Voice Within Me That Will Not Be Still

I Hurl My Heart To Halt His Pace.

Then I Decided I Would Spend The Summer Writing A Novel. That Would Fix A Lot Of People.

And So I Rehabilitate Myself - Staying Up Late This Friday Night In Spite Of Vowing To Go To Bed Early, Because It Is More Important To Capture Moments Like This, Keen Shifts In Mood, Sudden Veering Of Direction - Than To Lose It In Slumber.

The Night Sky Is Only A Sort Of Carbon Paper, Blueblack, With The Much-poked Periods Of Stars Letting In The Light, Peephole After Peephole--- A Bonewhite Light, Like Death, Behind All Things.