For War There Is Always Enough. It's

Everything Passes. (that's What Makes It Endurable.)

Man Was Matter, That Was Snowden's Secret. Drop Him Out A Window, And He'll Fall. Set Fire To Him And He'll Burn. Bury Him And He'll Rot, Like Other Kinds Of Garbage. The Spirit Gone, Man Is Garbage. That Was Snowden's Secret. Ripeness Was All.

Why Are They Going To Disappear Him?' I Don't Know.' It Doesn't Make Sense. It Isn't Even Good Grammar.

There Are Yawning Gulfs Into Which Large Chunks Of Me Have Fallen. I Do Not Always Know Where I Am At Present.

I Write Longhand And I Type And I Rewrite On The Typed Pages.