We All Have Some Proper Noun To

In Light This Bright, After So Long In The Dark, Everything We Can See Is Only Black And White. Only Glaring Shape-outlines We Have To Blink Against.

Skin, Bones, Blood And Organs Transplant From Person To Person. Even What’s Inside You Already, The Colonies Of Microbes And Bugs That Eat Your Food For You, Without Them You’d Die. Nothing Of You Is All-the-way Yours. All Of You Is Inherited. Whatever You’re Thinking, A Million Other Folks Are Thinking. Whatever You Do, They’re Doing, And None Of You Is Responsible. All Of You Is A Cooperative Effort.

I Can Manage My Own Pain. I Can Drink. I Can Go To The Doctor And Get A Prescription. I Can Exercise. I Can Write A Story About It. I've Done It A Million Times! But I Don't Want To See The People I Love Tortured And Suffering.

It's Only In Drugs Or Death We'll See Anything New, And Death Is Just Too Controlling.

Reality Means You Live Until You Die. The Real Truth Is Nobody Wants Reality.