In a dream you are never eighty.

Love your self's self where it lives.

Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.

Now I am going back And I have ripped my hand From your hand as I said I would And I have made it this far.

We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!

Look to your heart that flutters in and out like a moth. God is not indifferent to your need. You have a thousand prayers but God has one.

I am your dwarf. I am the enemy within. I am the boss of your dreams. See. Your hand shakes. It is not palsy or booze. It is your Doppelganger trying to get out. Beware...Beware...