You have to die a few times before you can really live.
We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting
It's just that the grape has me down.
There still might be a place for us somewhere.
Basically, that's why I wrote: to save my ass, to save my ass from the madhouse, from the streets, from myself.
All our days are marked with/ unexpected/ affronts--some/ disastrous, others/ less so/ but the process is/ wearing and/ continuous./ Attrition rules./ Most give/ way/ leaving/ empty spaces/ where people should/ be.