Do not ask the definition of a friend. He/She is that one without whose company death and dying set in earlier and living is made more pleasurable.

I've come to terms with it, it knows I know.

Strangers are just friends waiting to happen

I chose the shadows; they did not choose me. I stay here securely not just because I feel plain, but because disappearance is by now the easy way. The habit. The worn path that I can trod knowingly and be assured safe passage home.

Poetry is fact given over to imagery.

If I could do it over, I'd do better.

Everybody has the answers or they'll make them up for you. Just once I'd like to hear a brand-new question.