I’m In Pain. That’s The

Never Underestimate The Power Of A Brillian Stylist.

Sometimes When I'm Alone, I Take The Pearl From Where It Lives In My Pocket And Try To Remember The Boy With The Bread, The Strong Arms That Warded Off Nightmares On The Train, The Kisses In The Arena.

How Did Rue End Up On That Stage With Nothing But The Wind Offering To Take Her Place?

It's Not Easy To Find A Topic. Talking Of Home Is Painful. Talking Of The Present Unbearable.

The Woods Always Look Different At Night...as If The Daytime Trees And Flowers And Stones Had Gone To Bed And Sent Slightly More Ominous Versions Of Themselves To Take Their Places.