No. There is no balance, and no retribution, and no rules. The rules and balances you blather about are hopeful creations of a man fearing death.
Nothing again. No one is listening. No one is waiting to hear the kicking of a man above. It is unexpected. You have no ears for someone like me.
Here I am Rock You Like a Hurricane.
Everyone in the life before was cranky, I think, because they just wanted to know. – After I Was Thrown in the River and Before I Drowned.
And there is a chance that everything we did was incorrect, but stasis is itself criminal for those with the means to move, and the means to weave communion between people.
He remained, weeks after awakening, in that period of early-morning consciousness that allows easy re-entry to dreaming. His limbs still tingled with the residue of sleep, and most days he wanted badly to allow it to overtake him again.
We lose weeks like buttons, like pencils.
Here is a drawing of a stapler:.
Hello Frances, I have just been to health class, and I was wondering how your feminine parts were developing.
If you think I’m annoying and preachy now, you should have known me in grade school.
Why do we pursue information that we know will never leave our heads?
To me any given story has its appropriate form. There might be some story I get involved with that’s begging to be a graphic novel, so that will have to be that way.
Still though, I think if you’re not self-obsessed, you’re probably boring.
This boy thinks I am not of his species, that I am some other kind of creature, one that can be crushed under the weight of a phone book. The pain is not great, but the symbolism is disagreeable.
Every part of my body felt electric. My chest ached and my head throbbed with the great terrible limitless possibility of the morning, and when it came, the sky was washed white, everything was new, and I hadn’t slept at all.
I see colors like you hear jet planes.
Why did we do that to Pluto? We had it good with Pluto.
The air is like being wanted, we say, and they nod approvingly. The air is like getting older, they say, and they touch our arms gently.
His lies were so exquisite I almost wept.
But what I really want is to just swim around in a warm baby pool of these friends, jump in their dry leaf pile-to rub them all over myself, without words and clothes.