Love Is A Word. A Sound. Its

I Run Six-to-eight Miles A Day, Plus Weights And Aerobics In The Lunch Hour. I Also Lie A Lot, Which Keeps Me Thin.

In Books, Day Breaks, And Night Falls. In Life, Night Rises From The Ground. The Day Hangs On For As Long As It Can, Bright And Eager, Absolutely And Positively The Last Guest To Leave The Party, While The Ground Darkens, Oozing Night Around Your Ankles, Swallowing For Ever That Dropped Contact Lens, Making You Miss That Low Catch In The Gully On The Last Ball Of The Last Over.

I Would Cling To Unhappiness Because It Was A Known, Familiar State. When I Was Happier, It Was Because I Knew I Was On My Way Back To Misery. I've Never Been Convinced That Happiness Is The Object Of The Game. I'm Wary Of Happiness.

I Have My Moments. Ever Since I Was A Boy, I Never Was Someone Who Was At Ease With Happiness. Too Often I Embrace Introspection And Self-doubt. I Wish I Could Embrace The Good Things.

Believe It Or Not, Perhaps I Don't Show It Much, Or Well, But I Think I Like People.