Even without wars, life is dangerous.

Depression is boring, I think and I would do better to make some soup and light up the cave.

The boys and girls are one tonight. They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies. They take off shoes. They turn off the light. The glimmering creatures are full of lies. They are eating each other. They are overfed. At night, alone, I marry the bed.

I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.

Death's in the good-bye.

Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.

Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind