Im haunted a little this evening by feelings that have no vocabulary and events that should be explained in dimensions of lint rather than words. Ive been examining half-scraps of my childhood. They are pieces of distant life that have no form or meaning. They are things that just happened like lint.

We walked back to iDEATH, holding hands. Hands are very nice things, especially after they have travelled back from making love.

The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster When you take your pill it's like a mine disaster. I think of all the people lost inside you.

I’ll affect you slowly as if you were having a picnic in a dream. There will be no ants. It won’t rain.

I'll tell you about it because I am here and you are distant.

The American humorist sat on his couch suffering thoughts of her, trying to figure out how to win back her affections, wondering what had happened between them or just tumbling head-over-heels down into romantic oblivion where the image of a remembered kiss provokes bottomless despair and makes death seem like the right idea.He experienced the basics of love ended.

It's pretty hard to have faith when everybody is trying to lock you up.