All Of A Writer That

Your Red Dress,’ She Said, And Laughed. But I Looked At The Dress On The Floor And It Was As If The Fire Had Spread Across The Room. It Was Beautiful And It Reminded Me Of Something I Must Do. I Will Remember I Thought. I Will Remember Quite Soon Now.

There Are Always Two Deaths, The Real One And The One People Know About.

If All Good, Respectable People Had One Face, I'd Spit In It.

I Would Never Be Part Of Anything. I Would Never Really Belong Anywhere, And I Knew It, And All My Life Would Be The Same, Trying To Belong, And Failing. Always Something Would Go Wrong. I Am A Stranger And I Always Will Be, And After All I Didn’t Really Care.

It Was The Darkness That Got You. It Was Heavy Darkness, Greasy And Compelling. It Made Walls Round You, And Shut You In So That You Felt Like You Could Not Breathe.