By Writing I Can Live In Ways

I Tried Out The Unfamiliar Syllables. They Fit. They Cracked In My Ears Like A Fist Through Ice.

I Might Not Be Able To Use The Word "hope," But I Could Certainly Use The Word "optimism." I'm Very Optimistic. I Don't Feel That It Helps To Be Pessimistic. At Some Point In My Life I Made A Conscious Decision That I Would Try To Be Optimistic - Not Blind To Anything At All - But To Always Hear The Way That Had The Best Chance For Happiness.

He Had A Thousand-year-old Stare.

This So Gnawed At Him On Some Nights That He Lay Awake Wondering Just How Many Unknown And Similarly Inconsequential Accidents And Bits Of Happenstance Were At This Moment Occurring Or Failing To Occur In Order To Ensure He Took His Next Breath, And The Next.

Old Love, Middle Love, The Kind Of Love That Knows Itself And Knows That Nothing Lasts, Is A Desperate Shared Wildness.