So This Is Where The Years Of

Open A Book This Minute And Start Reading. Don’t Move Until You’ve Reached Page Fifty. Until You’ve Buried Your Thoughts In Print. Cover Yourself With Words. Wash Yourself Away. Dissolve.

Nothing She Did Or Said Was Quite What She Meant But Still Her Life Could Be Called A Monument Shaped In A Slant Of Available Light And Set To The Movement Of Possible Music

The Silence Is Perfect, And Yet A Torment.

These Are Frightening Times...when She Feels Herself Annointed By Loneliness.

This Is Why I Read Novels: So I Can Escape My Own Unrelenting Monologue.