You Can Only Whine For

That’s The Nice Thing About Dreams, The Way You Wake Up Before You Fall.

In Our Absence, The Violet Early Evening Light Pours In The Bay Window, Filling The Still Room Like Water Poured Into A Glass. The Glass Is Delicate. The Thin, Tight Surface Of The Liquid Light Trembles. But It Does Not Break. Time Does Not Pass. Not Yet.

I Began To Measure Things In Absence Instead Of Presence.

For Me, The First Sign Of Oncoming Madness Is That I'm Unable To Write.

When I Returned, Everything Was Different. Everything Was Calm, And I Felt Very Clean. Everything Was In Order. Everything Was As It Should Be. I Had A Secret. It Was A Guilty Secret, Certainly. But It Was My Secret. I Had Something To Hold On To. It Was Company. It Kept Me Calm. It Filled Me Up And Emptied Me Out.