Pain Can Give You Sight Or Make

His Own Voice Was Older Than He Was. Ancient, Unearthed From Some Mystical Subterranean Place...the Voice Seemed To Make His Whole Body Ache. Maybe It Made Him Bleed Inside. I Wondered If It Hurt, If It Burned In His Throat.

When You Live In A City With No Stars To Wish On, You Have To Wish On Each Other.

L.a. Kills People.' Jacaranda Said. 'you're Lucky You're Leaving. You'll Be Able To Write.' She Looked Paler, Going Through Another Depression, Smoking In Bed In Her Lilac Room. The Walls Were The Color Of Her Veins. She Was Getting Too Thin, Even For The Modeling. . .jacaranda Died Last Winter When The Flowering Trees Were Bare. You Couldn't Even Tell Which Ones Once Cried The Purple Blossoms She Named Herself After.

Relieved Because What I Dreaded Most In The Whole World Was Going To Happen And I Wouldn’t Have To Live With It Anymore—the Fear. There Is The Relief Of Finally Not Being Alone And The Relief Of Being Alone When No One Can Take Anything Away From You. Here She Was, My Beautiful Fear. Shiny As Crystal Lace Frost.

This Was Not A Fearie Tale. This Was Not The Movies. This Was Life. It Hurt More. It Was Excruciating. It Was Excruciatingly Beautiful.